Xie Yu sat down on the chair, turned her head for one last look at the bedding spread out on the floor, closed her eyes, and fell backward heavily.
With only the back two legs supporting it, the chair instantly lost balance and toppled with her. The brief weightless sensation made her heart seem to hang suspended.
Before she could react, her head struck the bedding. It did not exactly hurt, but it left her dazed for a moment.
She lay there, took a deep breath, and opened her eyes again.
Still in this dream world.
This was already the fifth time she had fallen, and it was utterly useless. That movie about dream infiltration had lied to her.
She sighed and sat up cross-legged, thinking that perhaps the period of weightlessness had been too short to jolt her awake.
So she dragged the bedding to the front of the bed, measured the distance, and made sure she would not smash herself to death when she fell.
Then she climbed onto the bed, stood at the edge, folded her arms across her chest like a toppled statue of a deity, and fell backward.
The increased height lengthened the time of weightlessness—but moments later, she was still rubbing her head as she climbed up from the floor.
Still useless.
Irritated, she paced around the room for a long while. At one point she accidentally stubbed her toe against a cabinet door, the pain making her collapse instantly onto the bedding, clutching her foot and cursing silently.
With no other options, she rushed to the back garden, climbed onto the roof of the pavilion in the middle of the lake, and looked down at the gold-and-red koi gathering curiously below her.
This pavilion roof had to be at least three meters high. The weightless time would definitely be long enough this time.
She waved her hand and shouted loudly at the fish, "Go away!"
The fish did not leave. They clustered below her, forming something like a living fish carpet.
Xie Yu could not be bothered to argue. They were fish—they would swim away on their own.
She took a deep breath, recalled in her mind the graceful postures of Olympic diving champions from various countries, and dove headfirst!
Water splashed high. The fish scattered like refugees. The calm surface of the lake exploded into enormous ripples.
She had not held her breath properly before jumping and nearly choked to death. It took her quite a while of floundering before she managed to lift her head above water.
Seeing the familiar back garden, she felt even more disappointed.
Kicking her legs constantly and pushing water aside with her palms, she climbed ashore by stepping on the artificial rock by the lake.
Why can't I wake up? Why can't I wake up?
Had that dream movie really tricked her?
In her previous dreams, this method had clearly worked. But this time it did not.
What if she could never wake up? What if she was trapped in the dream forever?
The thought flashed through her mind, and she shuddered immediately.
No.
She had to wake up. Shen Changyin was still waiting for her outside.
She jumped into the water a few more times, found it useless, and exhausted her limbs in the process. Finally she stopped.
The pavilion was only three meters high. There was weightlessness, yes—but not enough.
She needed a longer fall.
Suddenly, the memory flashed through her mind of when she and Shen Changyin had jumped off a cliff while evading an assassination attempt.
She lay down on a large artificial rock warmed thoroughly by the sun. The water soaking her clothes darkened the pale gray stone beneath her. She closed her eyes, blocking the sunlight outside her eyelids.
Tomorrow, she would try jumping off a cliff.
High-platform diving was not entirely without danger, especially if she chose an extremely tall cliff in an uncharted wilderness.
But she had no choice. She did not want to live in a dream forever.
The next morning, she brought several dry towels, a set of short, convenient clothes suitable for diving, and heavily sweet pastries to replenish energy quickly. She boarded a carriage and headed out of the city.
The cliff she chose was not the one she had previously jumped from with Shen Changyin. That one was on the mountain of the royal mausoleum—difficult to access and not quite high enough.
She intended to try her luck in the mountains by the river where she usually fished. There were often cliffs suitable for diving there.
The carriage moved smoothly all the way. Just when she thought everything might go well today, it was suddenly forced to stop by a congested crowd ahead.
Jostled inside the carriage, she lifted her head and asked the driver outside, "What's going on?"
"So many people up ahead," the driver replied. "It seems someone passed the provincial exam."
Xie Yu stepped forward, bent slightly, and lifted the carriage curtain. She realized she had arrived on the street in front of the teahouse.
The area before the teahouse—especially in front of the notice board—was packed so tightly it was impenetrable. People were scrambling to see the past policy essays posted there.
After listening for a while, she finally understood: the "Shen Gengxu" who had debated with her had passed the provincial exam at the top rank. These people had come to admire the essays and bask in the reflected good fortune.
She passed?
Xie Yu was stunned. After a moment, she sat back inside the carriage and said to the driver, "Take a detour."
The news abruptly pulled her thoughts away from "going home."
Although she had already decided to distance herself from this "Shen Gengxu," not to meet or communicate again, they were at least friends. For the other woman to pass the provincial exam and become an officially recognized scholar was a tremendous event.
One could know a person through her writing. Xie Yu had long realized that, unlike herself—who lacked grand ambition—this "Shen Gengxu," who once supported torture, was actually very proud, even to the point of being arrogantly confident in her talent.
That woman harbored great aspirations, wishing to change the world. Now that she had taken the most crucial step forward in her dream, Xie Yu could not help but feel happy for her.
This news briefly diluted the heavy worry pressing on her heart. The corner of her lips lifted slightly, but her expression soon darkened again.
When the carriage finally stopped among the mountain range and Xie Yu stepped down, seeing the cliff at the end of the winding path, her expression grew even more serious.
"Leave the carriage here. You can head back first."
The driver nodded and left.
Carrying her things, Xie Yu walked step by step toward the cliff.
She was not afraid of heights—but jumping down from one was another matter.
She had jumped into water before, but that had been in desperation. She and Shen Changyin had been under assassination; there had been no second choice but to leap.
And this cliff was much higher.
Clear water meant shallow. Green water meant deep. Blue water meant broad. Black water meant abyssal. Yellow water meant turbulent.
Xie Yu lowered her head and looked at the dark green lake below her feet.
She picked up a stone and threw it down, quietly waiting as the splash burst outward and the surface gradually returned to stillness.
The last time she and Shen Changyin had jumped from a cliff, she had done the same—throwing a stone into the water. First, to judge the landing point. Second, to judge the underwater conditions beneath it.
The water had to be deep enough, and there could not be hidden rocks below the landing point. Otherwise, a person would be finished.
After that cliff jump, she had taught Shen Changyin how to swim and dive, but she had not taught her this technique. At this moment, she felt a flicker of regret.
But the regret did not linger long. She shook her head, stepped to the edge, took a deep breath, rose onto her toes—
Jump!
—
With a splash.
Sitting on the riverbank, Shen Changyin looked up as a fisherwoman by the shore tossed a small fish she had just caught back into the water. The fish was too small, only the size of a palm. When it hit the water, it made only a faint splash.
"Miss, want to buy some fish?" The sturdy middle-aged fisherwoman on the boat, seeing her glance over, lifted a lively fish and showed it to her.
Shen Changyin shook her head.
"Our fish are excellent. There was a distinguished guest before—such fine clothes she wore! She came every time to buy from us."
The fisherwoman refused to give up, continuing her sales pitch.
But Shen Changyin suddenly understood. So the first few fish the straw-hat fisherwoman had thrown into the puddle had all been bought from this fisherwoman.
She smiled, waved her hand again, still indicating no.
After a moment's thought, she raised her voice and called out crisply, "She's my friend. When she comes, I'll have her buy from you and treat me to fish."
The fisherwoman nodded heavily. "Alright—!"
Between green mountains and clear waters, she let out a drawn-out call and pushed off with her long pole, drifting away like the wind.
Shen Changyin withdrew her gaze, feeling unexpectedly justified.
She had passed the provincial exam at first rank. What was wrong with having the straw-hat fisherwoman treat her to grilled fish?
Not just grilled fish—the other woman had better make up for that lotus-leaf roasted chicken she had missed last time, too.
A large flock of wild ducks floated scattered across the water, sometimes plunging their heads down to catch prey, sometimes flying low across the surface to land somewhere new, sending ripples spreading outward.
Shen Changyin watched the ripples shifting with the breeze and lightly tapped her fingers, humming softly in a Jiangnan melody.
Kunqu opera was delicate and winding. She had never had the qualification to formally listen to it. In her childhood, when she had worried constantly about survival, she had no leisure to appreciate such tunes. Usually she would carry firewood and pass by opera courtyards expressionlessly.
She had thought she would never recall Kunqu again. Yet in an instant, a few lines surfaced in her mind:
"Green glazed waters ripple with mist; painted boats lightly carry abundant moonlight."
"Red balustrades, twelve winding turns; lotus blossoms reflected in water frame the beauty's head."
She hummed the two remembered lines several times. She could recall no more. She laughed at herself, yet continued singing softly.
Until the sky gradually darkened. The fisherwoman had already gone ashore some distance away. The mountains and waters were no longer green, but had turned deep blue beneath the orange-red glow of sunset.
Only one bright color remained in the world—the orange clouds at the horizon.
The faint singing grew softer and softer, until it ceased entirely.
Shen Changyin closed her mouth. Warmth lingered in her chest from prolonged singing.
She did not come today.
She looked at the broken ripples beneath the stone. In every shattered droplet splashing upward was reflected the vast orange-red clouds at the horizon.
The evening was so beautiful. Yet that person had not come.
—
The orange-red clouds fell into Xie Yu's eyes, almost painfully bright.
She closed her eyes and lay spread-eagled on the ground, utterly exhausted.
The entire afternoon she had spent in a cycle: jump into the water, swim ashore, climb back up the cliff, jump again.
She had grown numb to the height. Diving had become a mechanical action requiring no thought. But her strength had finally run out.
Even in early summer weather, drenched from head to toe, she felt cold.
The sun was about to set. The warmth beneath her from the stone was its final stored heat. Once the sun disappeared, she would have nothing left to keep her warm.
And through countless falls, she had gradually realized that she probably could not return.
Perhaps this was not a dream at all. Trying to wake up through dream-infiltration tricks was nonsense. This place might truly be an independent world.
She had once drifted between two worlds like a wandering soul. This time, she could not go back.
Her heart had long since begun to sink, heavy and weighed down. But the physical sensation of falling could dull that feeling, making it slightly more bearable.
So Xie Yu simply kept jumping, again and again.
Sometimes she even thought: if there truly were a large rock beneath the water and she struck it and died, would she return to her original world? Would she open her eyes and see Shen Changyin beside her?
At the thought, she shook her head.
Seeking death was not her style. Believing that death would grant rebirth was foolish.
She did not believe death would bring her anything. She had to live well.
Even so, she climbed the cliff once more and jumped.
This time, however, she was completely out of strength. She did not leap far enough. Almost immediately she scraped against several protruding rocks at the cliff's edge, bruising and cutting herself—some blows leaving dark welts, others slicing skin and drawing blood.
She fell into the water and slowly floated up, face turned toward the sky, drifting quietly.
Stars rose in the sky, accompanying one another, forming chains and patterns.
And suddenly she felt… lonely.
—
Shen Changyin gave the starry sky one last look, stood up, and left the stone that had long since grown cold. She walked back along the riverbank.
Night had fully fallen. The people who usually made a living by the riverbank had long returned home. Only one or two fishing boats remained far out in the river's center, their warm lamps lit.
But Shen Changyin had nothing. Her hands were empty. She stepped on the dew-damp grass by the river, beneath the stars overhead, hearing only the echo of her own breathing in the vast world.
What was there to make of it? The person simply had not come.
She had long since been accustomed to being alone.
The next morning, she rarely allowed herself to sleep in a little longer instead of rising early.
It was only when she heard the sound of gongs and drums outside that she hurried to dress.
Opening the door, she saw the headmistress of an academy standing in the small courtyard of her landlady's house. Behind the headmistress stood two people—one holding cymbals, the other with a small drum tied at her waist, drumsticks in hand.
Her landlady stood in the corner of the courtyard, startled and frightened to see such a dignified figure appear in her humble yard.
The headmistress, as the person in charge of an academy, was a prominent figure in the capital—a true great person in the landlady's eyes.
She had never imagined that the impoverished scholar renting her dilapidated house could truly pass the exam—and even be personally welcomed by a headmistress.
The headmistress herself had once earned the title of provincial graduate; her examination results had been far better than Shen Changyin's current achievement. Her visit this time was, in fact, to recruit students for her academy.
Shen Changyin's talent was evident to all. Her future performance in the metropolitan and palace examinations would likely not be poor. If the headmistress secured her enrollment now, the academy would gain fame in the future.
Selecting top students had never been uncommon throughout history.
Shen Changyin had already discussed the matter with her, negotiating terms and reaching agreement.
She had only forgotten that the headmistress would come today to bring her to reside at the academy, and thus had slept in until now.
She nodded slightly and bowed. "Thank you, Headmistress."
"There's no need for formalities," the headmistress said warmly. "See what you need to take. I've hired a carriage outside."
Shen Changyin glanced at her room. There were not many belongings. Her fishing net pole was especially worn and shabby. The only truly valuable item in the entire room was probably the piece of pine soot ink.
She hesitated, then, besides her simple luggage, took the pine soot ink and the fishing net pole with her.
The headmistress's eyelid twitched instinctively at the sight of the fishing net pole.
Shen Changyin explained, "There was a time I could not fill my stomach and had to rely on netting fish to survive. I want to bring it with me to remind myself not to forget those days."
The headmistress understood—it was a symbolic totem of spirit.
She said no more and brought Shen Changyin into the carriage.
After they disembarked, she warmly helped her settle in and introduced the surroundings.
"Our academy may not be large, but the location is excellent. Just outside are bookshops—and that teahouse you young people like to visit."
The headmistress had also heard of the famous policy essay Shen Changyin had co-written and read it herself. Open-mindedly, she said:
"I have read that essay as well. It is truly a rare masterpiece. It shows that debating in teahouses has its benefits. You may visit often in the future."
Shen Changyin nodded indifferently. Fatigue showed on her face, and the headmistress tactfully withdrew.
"Then I won't disturb your rest."
Shen Changyin saw the headmistress off and lay down on her new bed. She stared at the ceiling for a while before sitting up again.
She was going to the teahouse.
When she arrived, it was no longer as packed as yesterday, but the notice board was still crowded with people pointing and whispering. The topic, however, was no longer yesterday's rankings.
Someone spotted her and quickly nudged the woman beside her. "She's here, she's here—make way."
The crowd parted like a tide splitting, opening a path for her.
Shen Changyin stepped up to the notice board and saw that a long, narrow table had been placed in front of it. On top sat an exquisitely crafted gift box that looked extraordinarily expensive.
There was also a slip of paper: "To be opened personally by Shen Gengxu."
She took down the note, her pale, slender fingers untying the ribbon, and opened the box.
Inside was a superb set of the four treasures of the study—ink, brush, paper, and inkstone—of exceptional quality. Beside them lay a stack of delicate, snow-white Qingzhou floral paper.
Among the onlookers craning their necks were young ladies from wealthy families. One glance at the contents made one of them inhale sharply.
"What is it? What is it?" the others asked.
Her voice trembled. "Huizhou ink… Duanxi inkstone… This whole box—this might truly be worth a thousand pieces of gold."
The crowd erupted in astonishment.
Shen Changyin showed no reaction. She simply picked up the letter beneath the items.
"Hearing of your success, I am overjoyed. I offer these trifles to wish you a boundless future."
She turned the paper over.
"After many days of debating with you, my thoughts were broadened and my mind enlightened. You are a rare and invaluable mentor and friend in this world."
"However, I have a beloved wife. She is now nowhere to be found, and I must search for her across the vast world. From this day forth, I can no longer engage in discourse with you. Thus, I bid you farewell."
"This is my fault, not yours. Words fail me. Your unworthy friend bows."
Beloved wife.
Beloved wife.
Shen Changyin rolled those four words over in her mouth again and again, as if she wanted to chew them to pieces. A cold laugh escaped her lips.
Beloved wife.
You thought her your confidante—yet you never knew she had a beloved wife. You never knew she could leave you without hesitation for that wife.
She crumpled the letter into a ball, crushed it in her hand, and strode away.
She treated that priceless gift box like worthless trash.
The crowd buzzed in confusion, unable to understand why she would do such a thing.
She returned to her new residence. Her old fishing net still sat in the corner. On the table lay the small, refined pine-soot ink block.
In one sudden motion, she grabbed the ink block and hurled it against the wall.
But the ink was of such excellent quality that, aside from picking up a bit of dust when it hit the floor, it remained completely intact.
Shen Changyin let out a cold laugh, and a dark resentment began to grow in her heart.
How could she not hate?
Ridiculously, she had believed she had found, in this vast and bewildering universe, another star that could stand alongside her.
She had never considered that the other woman had her own life—and that she herself was nothing more than a fleeting meteor in it.
Enough.
She told herself.
She was just one person. In this world, people were the least scarce thing of all.
And what Shen Changyin least lacked was the resolve to live on alone.
From now on, she would act as though that woman had never existed.
—
Meanwhile, Xie Yu lay on her bed, watching as the imperial physicians treated her wounds.
After jumping from the cliff yesterday, she had indeed injured her muscles and bones. The injuries were not severe, but they required long-term rest.
She had already summoned a doctor the previous night, but she had not expected that once the empress heard of it, she would dispatch three imperial physicians from the palace to examine her.
Each physician held needles, thread, and small knives as they worked on her wounds. The weather was hot, and she had soaked in water. The physicians insisted that a small portion of flesh around the wounds had begun to rot and needed to be cut away.
Xie Yu watched silently as they worked.
Cold sweat streamed down her forehead, yet from beginning to end, she did not make a sound.
Only after it was over did she collapse onto the bed, nearly fainting, and gesture weakly to the housekeeper.
"See them out."
The housekeeper complied and thoughtfully closed the bedroom door behind them.
The moment the door shut—
Xie Yu rolled over, buried her head in the pillow, and let out a hoarse scream.
—
Xie Yu suddenly let out a pained groan.
Shen Changyin, who had been asleep at the desk beside her bed, jolted awake. She reached out to touch Xie Yu's forehead and found it drenched in cold sweat.
"Go call Military Physician Zhang!" she shouted immediately.
Xie Yu's face was twisted in agony, clearly suffering immensely within her dream.
Shen Changyin could only keep calling her name.
"Little Xie, Little Xie…"
She could do nothing.
She watched her beloved fall into such torment—and she could do nothing.
Instinctively, she lifted Xie Yu halfway into her arms, holding her tightly, gently patting her shoulder. When Xie Yu trembled from pain, Shen Changyin tightened her embrace, trying to steady her.
Military Physician Zhang was woken from sleep and hurried over. As she had done countless times before, she examined Xie Yu carefully.
Then she shook her head.
"Her pulse shows no abnormality," she said gravely.
Shen Changyin no longer believed such words. "The empress has been awake for two days now—that is what 'no abnormality' looks like."
She touched Xie Yu's forehead again. "She's in this much pain and you call it normal? She's sick! You have to treat her!"
Physician Zhang exhaled slowly. "Perhaps… this isn't an illness."
Shen Changyin's voice sharpened. "Poison?"
Zhang shook her head. "It could also be a gu curse. Poison and gu are closely related. There are countless strange toxins and parasitic curses in this world. Perhaps one of them could produce these symptoms."
"I've been searching medical texts day and night these past few days and found nothing that matches. For now, poison or gu are our only guesses."
"If someone is truly trying to harm the Third Highness, then…"
"The ones with the greatest motive and ability are those women of the Xie family," Shen Changyin finished immediately.
Among them, the empress—with her vast power, decades of influence, and suspicious behavior—was the most suspect. The Second Princess came next.
Both the Blood Pill case and the Child's Tears case had traced their alchemical formulas back to the Second Princess's residence, proving that someone there was highly skilled in such sinister arts.
And recently, the empress and the Second Princess seemed to have begun cooperating.
The suspicion only deepened.
Shen Changyin made her decision at once. "Call Old Jin in."
Old Jin entered.
As for the other princesses, whose suspicion was lighter, her order was simple.
"Arrest them. Send them to the cells beneath my official residence."
The empty prison rooms could be put to use immediately.
But regarding the empress and the Second Princess, she was more cautious.
"Place them under house arrest. Don't make it too strict on the surface—but behind the scenes, do not loosen control at all."
She knew clearly that women like the empress and the Second Princess cherished their lives. Blind torture would yield nothing from their mouths.
Before her rebirth, she had once discussed with others how best to extract intelligence. She would not make rash mistakes now.
She had to save Xie Yu.
She had to remain calm.
Old Jin left to carry out her orders. Military Physician Zhang decided that beginning tomorrow, she would investigate matters related to poison and gu in greater depth.
But before leaving, she paused at the doorway.
She looked at the red veins in Shen Changyin's eyes, at her increasingly pale lips, and said with concern,
"Why don't I ask Jiang Fang to keep watch for a while? You should at least get some rest. If she hasn't awakened yet and you collapse first…"
Shen Changyin sat beside Xie Yu, tucking the blanket carefully around her. She turned toward Zhang, her face haggard and exhausted.
"I won't collapse. Before she wakes up, I absolutely will not fall."
Zhang looked at her with deep worry.
Shen Changyin waved her hand. "Go. It's fine."
Zhang could only leave, closing the door behind her.
Creak.
The moment the door shut, Shen Changyin's gaze shifted to the corner of the room—to a familiar yet unfamiliar phantom.
The phantom wore the same clothes as her, had the same face, but smiled brightly.
"Long time no see."
Shen Changyin's voice was tired and cold. "What are you here for?"
The phantom tilted her head. "What do you mean, what am I here for? Shouldn't I be here?"
Shen Changyin said nothing.
The meaning was obvious.
The phantom let out a mocking laugh. "Don't you know? I'm here because you're about to break."
"You've been doing so well these past few months. I didn't even get a chance to appear."
"You know that if you were truly happy and at peace, I wouldn't come out."
"But now, you're about to collapse. Because you know—she's going to die."
Shen Changyin ignored her.
The phantom pressed on, chanting like a song:
"She's going to die. She's going to die. She's going to die. She's going to die…"
Veins bulged on Shen Changyin's hand. She suddenly grabbed the teacup from the bedside and hurled it toward the phantom.
The cup shattered instantly, exploding into fragments with a sharp crack. Tea splashed everywhere.
But the phantom moved lightly aside and avoided it.
"Why are you in such a hurry?" she tilted her head again.
"Isn't this all your fault?"
Shen Changyin slowly clenched her fingers until her knuckles turned pale.
"You knew she would fall ill. You knew she would be poisoned three years later. Why didn't you start investigating sooner? Why did you waste time chasing and being chased by her?"
The phantom pressed relentlessly.
"If you had started investigating when you were reborn three years ago, she wouldn't be sick now."
"If when you first met her, instead of insisting on showing your authority, your power, your schemes, you had simply lived with her peacefully the way she wished, you would have been together long ago. You could have started investigating long ago."
"If you had been more careful, more cautious—if you had taken precautions early on—you knew so many people wanted her dead. Why didn't you act?"
"It's all your fault…" the phantom murmured in her ear.
"You still hate her, don't you? Deep down you still want her dead, don't you? That's why you stood there and watched her walk straight into that trap."
"You're the one who killed her. You're the one who killed her…"
Shen Changyin's fingers tightened more and more until she could bear it no longer. She raised her hand and slapped toward the phantom.
But to her shock, the phantom shattered at the impact, dissolving into nothing.
The room fell back into silence.
Shen Changyin stood there in a daze. She turned to look at Xie Yu's increasingly pale face. Her heart throbbed painfully—once, twice, again—and suddenly she spun around and covered her mouth.
Then she rushed to the washbasin and began vomiting violently.
She had barely eaten anything. What came out was only bitter yellow bile. Yet she kept retching, as if she wanted to throw up her very organs.
Between spasms, she shook her head faintly.
Was it me?
Was it me who harmed you?
Have I become the one who killed you?
She opened her mouth again, bent over, as if she were trying to vomit out her very soul.
—
Xie Yu no longer felt pain. Her wounds were gradually healing, her muscles and bones slowly growing stronger.
While confined to bed recovering, there was nothing she could do but think.
The more she thought, the colder her heart became.
She had once believed this world was simply a world without Shen Changyin. But now a new thought struck her—
What if this was merely a world where Shen Changyin had failed to rebel?
What if Shen Changyin still existed here, only she had failed to lead the army to victory? Was she somewhere in a forgotten corner, waiting for her?
Or worse—
Was she suffering somewhere?
Xie Yu had once heard of the theory of parallel worlds: that every choice a person makes creates a branching timeline, giving rise to countless parallel universes.
What if this was one of them?
Fate was not fixed. Perhaps Shen Changyin had made one wrong decision and failed to lead her troops successfully.
If so—where was she now?
Xie Yu lay on her back, staring at the snow-white pearl gauze canopy above her bed.
Parallel universes were a complex theory. Even ordinary people had differing views about them.
Some believed that in every parallel universe, you were still you. Others believed that the counterpart in another universe was not truly you.
Some found romance in loving the same person across countless universes. Others insisted that the counterpart of your lover in another universe was not your lover at all.
Xie Yu had never thought deeply about such philosophical questions.
Most of her aptitude in the humanities had been sacrificed to fuel her athletic talent.
But she knew one thing:
If Shen Changyin was suffering somewhere in this world, she would find her.
So when her wounds were only halfway healed, she began contacting Jiang Fang in this world and reorganizing the military forces under her control.
She was immensely grateful that in her efforts to counter Shen Changyin before, she had tested many methods of expanding her influence here.
Because of that, she still had a well-trained unit at her disposal.
As soon as her wounds were mostly healed, she gathered her subordinates, prepared funds and supplies, organized a small team, and planned to leave the capital overnight.
She did not know where Shen Changyin was. In this vast world, she could be anywhere.
So she decided to start in the northwest.
Old Jin had once said that Shen Changyin's favorite place was a crooked-neck willow tree near their earliest military camp.
That was where she would begin.
She knew the court officials would never allow a princess to roam freely with troops, so she chose to travel by night.
But just after leaving the city—
She ran into the Imperial Guard.
Torches blazed. A palace attendant stood before her and said gently,
"Third Highness, your wounds are not yet healed. The border has long been troubled by nomadic unrest. Her Majesty is concerned for your safety. Please do not wander about."
Xie Yu held back her anger, said nothing, and returned directly to her residence.
Later, after investigating, she discovered that ever since her cliff-jumping injury, the empress had secretly been monitoring her.
This empress, too, had a strange obsession with her physical condition.
Xie Yu quietly stored that fact in her mind. She remained outwardly compliant, feeding the empress's spies false information daily while secretly continuing to expand her power, waiting for the right opportunity.
She did not have to wait long.
One month later, urgent reports arrived from the frontier: the nomads were attacking the border.
The court descended into chaos.
Without a word, Xie Yu had the empress's spy knocked unconscious.
While the ministers argued and shifted blame in court, she had already left the capital with her forces.
Only after traveling three hundred miles did she send a letter back, stating that as a princess, she wished to contribute her modest strength to the front lines.
She had acted first and reported later.
She was not overly worried about the consequences.
Sure enough, although the empress reportedly flew into a rage upon receiving the letter, she quickly dispatched troops and supplies after her and sent another letter demanding that Xie Yu protect her own safety at all costs.
Half a month later, Xie Yu reached the frontier. Three days after that, the reinforcements and supplies arrived.
One of the captains asked her where they would head next.
Xie Yu studied the strategic map of the border. She knew full well that her small force would be nothing more than a drop in the ocean if thrown directly onto the battlefield.
So instead of heading to the front lines, she pointed to a stretch of desert two hundred miles away from them.
When Shen Changyin had once fallen ill, Xie Yu had helped process official documents for her. She knew that Shen Changyin's earliest military camp had been located there.
Two days later, they arrived at the desert.
On the vast, endless plain, the crooked-neck willow stood out clearly.
It was dusk. The massive red sun hung at the horizon, thick and vivid—like the yolk of an egg laid by a hen that had eaten too many carrots, only far more beautiful.
The land was sparsely populated—only scattered vegetation, mountains, and earth.
In Xie Yu's imagination, Shen Changyin would walk along the horizon here, deep in thought. Her pale, delicate skin would gain a healthy flush from the wind.
She must have hated the sandstorms.
She was so clean by nature.
Xie Yu ordered the troops to camp nearby and walked toward the willow tree with two companions.
The tree was broad—so thick that two people together could barely encircle it. It seemed to have been struck by lightning once, which twisted its trunk into that crooked shape. Its branches were many, its leaves sparse, but on this flat and endless land, it possessed a strange beauty.
She stood before it, gazing at the thin green leaves.
For a moment, she could not even imagine what Shen Changyin had looked like sitting there.
She exhaled.
She was here.
So where was Shen Changyin?
She was about to turn and order her subordinates to inquire in nearby towns for news of Shen Changyin—
When she suddenly heard the rapid thunder of hooves.
She immediately drew her blade and turned.
Sure enough, from behind a distant hill charged a group of bandits with their faces covered in coarse cloth, wielding curved sabers.
But—
Xie Yu frowned.
Some of them wore pieces of military armor.
She rotated her wrist, blade raised, ready.
The charging riders approached at full speed. The leader shouted gruffly,
"Miss, lend us your toll money."
Xie Yu's eyelid twitched.
That voice—
It was unmistakably familiar.
She looked at the leader's sharp, hawk-like brows above the slope.
"Old Jin?"
The leader froze briefly, then sneered.
"What's it to you, granddaughter? Hand over the money."
Shock surged through Xie Yu.
She had not expected that in a world where Shen Changyin never rebelled, Old Jin would have become a soldier-bandit.
She shook her head. "I'm afraid you can't swallow a group like ours."
Old Jin sneered. "Skinny little girl. Hand over your life first."
She swung her saber.
Xie Yu lightly raised her own blade to meet it. The motion seemed effortless—but Old Jin's hand went numb from the impact.
What skill!
Old Jin immediately prepared to change tactics and attack again—
But an arrow suddenly skimmed past her cheek and shot into the distance.
The bandits were startled.
Old Jin looked up and finally noticed the soldiers behind Xie Yu. Jiang Fang stood among them, bow raised, watching calmly.
Xie Yu said evenly,
"Can we talk now?"
—
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