Zhiwei, I am indeed unworthy. Before we had even truly begun, I had already pushed you away.

  The warmth of spring was once again upon Dijing, but with someone missing everything was different. Who would pass the fragrant tea as they relaxed under the great banyan trees?

  In Hua Yan Du Village, as a great man sacrificed himself to buy them time to escape, they had clung to the cliffside and she had gently hugged him from behind.

  “For now, let me be your eyes.”


  When they had woken at the bottom of the cliff, she had lowered her head in focus and buttoned his clothes, her fragrance lingering by his nose.

  “If I left Dijing and never returned, what would you think?”


  “I’ll look for you.”


  “What if you cannot find me?”


  “You cannot escape me. All the lands under the heavens, all the wind, earth, water, and rain will be mine; even if you turn to ash, with nothing left but bone, you will still be mine.”


  Zhiwei.

  Even though all the wind and earth and water and rain will finally be mine, I am afraid that when I find you, you will not be the same person I knew. Out in the borderless steppes and the wide, blinding expanses of snow, the last page of the Thirteenth Year of Chang Xi turned, its bones crumbling to dust.

  That day, as his men guarded him from the angry commoners at the Yan Family Ancestral Temple, she had crossed through mountains for him, falling like a gentle cloud into his arms.

  That night as she lay unconscious and dying, he had sat by her quietly washing her waning body, his chest filled with pain and grief. He had feared then that everything would fall apart and all the bonds between men would shatter.

  Then he had left her side as she recovered, marching his army to Xita where he had found a feather and a reed leaf and invited her to one day come listen to the wind with him.

  He had crossed the sea at An Lan Valley, the clarity and peace of the waves around him as he thoughtfully attached a gift of coral to his letter. In that moment of quiet, he worried once more of how he had almost lost her forever and how it felt as if the oceans had been overturned. That night, he had not slept.

  As he sat blind, bright moon above and tranquility all around, the waves rocking underneath as he wrote, he imagined her as she found his letters and smiled quietly at her antics.

  When he finally entrusted the box of letters to Yan Huaishi, he heard the man’s unconcealed happiness and he too began to feel as if the world was bright and the wind gentle.

  But now.

  That utter intimacy had only meant more violence and pain in the separation.

  Now what he could he write but meaningless nothings, worthless and tasteless greetings from Prince Chu to the Shunyi Queen?

  His brush stilled.

  He bit his lips.

  Suddenly, he began writing again, one line after the other flowing from his brush like so many galloping rivers.

  Ning Yi set down his brush, sanded the ink, and folded the paper. Letter ready, he heated the wax and sealed the missive shut before placing it in a fine gift basket.

  He leaned back in his chair and looked out through his curtains. The setting rays of the sun shifted minutely behind those heavy barriers and finally they faded, leaving behind only frosty moonlight.

  Lonely wind hummed through the eaves of the palace and a deep, long night fell over Dijing.

  As the night stretched on, a conflicted and pained heart thought over a letter as night once again turned to day……

  The sun was bright and fresh as King’s Court celebrated, all the sadness and loss for a moment forgotten.

  Helian Zheng carried Feng Zhiwei as he dismounted amidst the cheering crowd, their long road of suffering finally ended as they stood under the gates of the palace. Sachets and waistbands and all manners of snacks hung around Helian Zheng and there were even some oily rice cakes balanced in Feng Zhiwei’s arms.

  As soon as the two turned a corner and the crowd was out of sight, Feng Zhiwei slapped her palm into Helian Zheng’s chest, using True Qi to force his hands apart and letting her fall and gently land on her own two feet.

  She used a moment to straighten her dress before, without a look back at Helian Zheng, turning and walking away.

  “Ai ai are you mad?” Helian Zheng immediately cried out as he rushed forward to grab her sleeve. “Don’t! Don’t be mad! Little Aunt, Little Aunt, it won’t happen again.”


  The King cried out in hurried guilt and a long-suffering Feng Zhiwei finally turned to face him. “You will not forget?”


  “I couldn’t help myself.” Helian Zheng explained, his eyes bright as he turned as if he could see the broad steppe skies through the palace walls. “Zhiwei, I have finally returned from Dijing. Heaven knows how much I hate that city, stuffy and dreary and everyone’s faces masked. Nobody can live freely and every third word is a lie. The steppes are the best, and even our skies are taller than Dijing’s. Zhiwei, I only wanted to share my joy.”


  I only wanted you to know my joy.

  Feng Zhiwei’s lashes trembled and her smile slipped — I know. I know. Yet even if you share enough joy to fill all the steppes, I have nowhere to put it.

  Her heart was frozen in time, locked away in the first snows over Dijing in the Thirteenth Year of Chang Xi, a long night that never ended.

  “How lively!” Chunyu Meng called out joyously behind them as he approached with his guards. He called out loudly: “I like these Hu Zhuo girls! I’m going to make one my wife!”


  “You do not wish to return?” Feng Zhiwei chuckled.

  As Chunyu Meng’s smile disappeared, Feng Zhiwei eyed him with some surprise. “You really do not wish to go back? Why? The Chunyu Family is now among Prince Chu’s trusted followers; when you return, all the merits you’ve earned on the trip to South Sea and through the steppes will surely lead to a great and powerful position in Dijing. You have a bright future, do not waste it.”