Xiao Rong introduced Miss Zhang. “This is General Jian’s wife.”

Zhao Xingzong quickly bowed. “Madam Jian.”

Madam Zhang returned the bow.

Xiao Rong looked at him with interest. “Every time a new play is released, you’re always the first to come see it. Do you really like this play that much?”

Zhao Xingzong scratched his head a little awkwardly. “Though the dialogue is a bit modern, the plot really drew me in. Since Mr. Xiao gave everyone the day off today, I hurried over to get in line.”

Xiao Rong smiled. “Thanks for the effort.”

Zhao Xingzong replied, “Not at all! Today’s performance was so heartwarming—it’ll keep me in high spirits for days.”

Xiao Rong chuckled lightly. He was naturally happy that someone liked his work. Seeing the satisfied smile on Zhao Xingzong’s face, Xiao Rong hesitated for a moment, then still gave him a reminder. “If that’s how you feel, I suggest you don’t watch the next seven acts. Just stop here—it’s for your own good.”

Zhao Xingzong: “…”

Xiao Rong walked away after saying that, leaving Zhao Xingzong standing there as if struck by lightning. Now he wouldn’t even have those few days of happiness.

Song Shuo glanced at Xiao Rong’s faint smile and said bluntly, “You did that on purpose.”

Xiao Rong shrugged. “He made me paranoid for so long, and I wasn’t even happy. Why should he be happier than me?”

Song Shuo: “…”

So petty.

 

＊

 

In the King’s residence, Madam Chen was cooking up a storm, with other kitchen staff helping her. Gao Xunzhi was also busy setting up the front hall. Xiao Rong had said everyone should have a reunion dinner tonight, and Gao Xunzhi was calculating how many chairs they needed to bring out.

Agusheja had also been busy in the kitchen. The Butewu people had their own special dishes too. However, once the guards brought back the items Xiao Rong had purchased, Agusheja dropped the still-flopping fish, wiped her hands, and looked at what had been bought for Danran.

A moment later, she returned to the backyard with the new clothes. Compared to the lively front, it was so quiet here not even birds could be heard. Agusheja pushed open the door—Sang Yan was sitting in the corner, still grinding herbs over and over.

Agusheja walked up to her and showed her the clothes. “Look, Xiao Rong bought this for Danran.”

Sang Yan glanced at them and resumed grinding.

Agusheja was silent for a moment, then asked again, “Today is the Mid-Autumn Festival—one of the most important holidays for you people from the Central Plains. If you’re willing to spend it with Danran, she’d be really happy.”

Sang Yan’s grinding slowed for a second, then returned to normal. Because she hadn’t spoken in so long, her voice was hoarse. “She’ll understand one day that she’s truly happy only without me.”

Agusheja had expected this. She turned and walked out. The grinding sound gradually faded behind her.

 

……

 

People from the Central Plains did value the Mid-Autumn Festival, but celebrating it as grandly as Xiao Rong did—insisting on everyone gathering for a meal—was rare.

At this time, showing importance for the holiday usually meant rituals: incense burning, paper offerings, reverent tributes. Only the Northern King’s residence was earnestly and enthusiastically eating.

 

……

 

There was no round table large enough for a dozen people. So to fulfill Xiao Rong’s vision, Gao Xunzhi had to cobble together seven or eight tables. He made a mental note to have a proper one built in the future—doing this every year was too much trouble.

Xiao Rong had also said they would admire the moon, so dinner didn’t start until nightfall. They were indulgent this time, lighting lanterns across the entire hall until it was as bright as day. Song Shuo, seated among them, pouted and said, “Now it finally feels like something.”

It still couldn’t compare to the Imperial Palace, but at least it wasn’t the most impoverished royal household anymore.

Everyone gradually took their seats. The monk greeted the crowd and sat down at his table, where only vegetarian dishes were served. Gao Xunzhi, who no longer liked meat with age, sat beside him.

Madam Chen hadn’t seen such a lively scene in years. She was the happiest one there today. She even wanted to drink wine. Xiao Yi tried to stop her, but Xiao Rong didn’t allow it. A little was fine, and it only happened once or twice a year.

Xiao Rong smiled as he looked at everyone. He had never experienced such a scene either, but he thought he could get used to it.

During the meal, Zhang Biezhi was once again arguing with Difa Ceng. No one could hear what they were arguing about. Danran couldn’t reach a dish, so Ah Shu quickly got up to help her. When Danran saw how tall Ah Shu was, she asked his age. Afterward, she suddenly felt confident about her own height.

If people from the Central Plains could grow that tall, then she definitely could too!

 

……

 

Xiao Yi and Madam Chen looked after each other. He gave her chicken legs, she gave him ginger slices. Song Shuo got a bit emotional from drinking and stood to recite a poem, but no one paid him any attention. The only young married woman at the table was Madam Zhang. She didn’t feel out of place, but there weren’t many she could talk to, so it felt a bit lonely.

She knew Danran’s mother had a status similar to hers, but after being married to Jian Qiao for so many years, she had only seen Sang Yan twice and never exchanged a single word. She didn’t expect Sang Yan to break her silence today.

Besides, drinking quietly like this was nice too. This was the first time she had truly felt the joy of a holiday after her husband went off to war.

Her seat faced away from the main door. She turned to see if the moon had risen—but the sky was overcast, like it was about to rain. No stars, let alone the moon.

As she turned, she caught a glimpse of Xiao Rong also looking at the sky. She smiled at him.

Xiao Rong noticed and smiled back, but the next moment, Madam Zhang’s pupils suddenly contracted.

Xiao Rong paused, sensing something wrong. He touched his lips and felt something wet. Before he could look, a burning pain surged through his entire body. He collapsed from his chair, knocking over his wine jug and dishes. The loud crash startled everyone—they turned toward the sound, and saw Xiao Rong sprawled on the ground, vomiting blood.

Gao Xunzhi stood up in shock. “A’Rong!”

In mere moments, Xiao Rong’s hair was soaked with sweat. Thick blood stained his clothes and the floor. He couldn’t stop—it felt like he was dying.

His whole abdomen was in pain. People shouted his name—desperate and terrified—but he couldn’t respond. Fear gripped every part of him. He was afraid. So afraid. Afraid he really was dying.

He didn’t know how long had passed—maybe a moment, maybe a stick of incense’s time—but he blacked out completely. If he had died then, he might not even have realized it was the end of his life.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in Gao Xunzhi’s arms, surrounded by terrified faces. Zhang Biezhi, Xiao Yi, and Ah Shu were sobbing. Song Shuo and the monk looked pale, speechless.

Agusheja was gone but quickly returned, carrying a whole Salt Maiden Ginseng root. Behind her was Sang Yan, who never left her room. She was carrying Agusheja’s medicine box, staring at Xiao Rong with terror.

Xiao Rong opened his eyes. Everyone froze, too scared to speak. He blinked and murmured, “I need to find him.”

The words were light as a feather, but Gao Xunzhi nearly collapsed. He feared this was just Xiao Rong’s final clarity before death—a dying man’s last words. He steadied himself and tried to reassure him, not realizing his own voice was trembling. “L-let Agusheja treat you first. Take the medicine. Then—”

But Xiao Rong didn’t seem to hear him. He suddenly sat up and tried to stand. The floor was slippery with blood, and he nearly fell again. Zhang Biezhi rushed to catch him.

Everyone snapped out of their daze. They all tried to persuade him to sit and be examined, but Xiao Rong grew furious. He shoved everyone away and shouted sharply, “Don’t touch me!”

“I have to find him—I have to find him!!!”

Everyone went silent.

Zhang Biezhi had always said Xiao Rong had a temper, that he was fierce, but no one took it seriously. They knew he wasn’t truly hostile. Yet now he looked like a wounded beast, eyes full of hatred as if everyone there was in his way—like he wished them all dead.

Song Shuo had never seen Xiao Rong like this. He stared in shock. Then Gao Xunzhi’s voice broke the silence. “Fine! Fine, I’ll take you to him. A’Rong, listen—let Agusheja treat you first, then we’ll go!”

Xiao Rong turned to him. Gao Xunzhi held his breath. A moment later, Xiao Rong released his grip on the table and collapsed to the ground, finally quiet.

 

…………

 

While Agusheja treated him, Gao Xunzhi didn’t stay—he rushed back to his room, grabbed a few clothes, and his weapons. Ah Shu went with him, wiping tears as he packed for Xiao Rong. He made sure to bring everything, including the Chiron Sword that had become a true weapon.

As they returned, carrying bundles, Song Shuo stood in the doorway, blocking them in disbelief. “You’re really letting him go to Shengle like this?!

“This is madness—aren’t you afraid he’ll die on the road?!”

Gao Xunzhi said nothing. Ah Shu, tears still falling, choked out, “Our Lord doesn’t want to die.”

Song Shuo froze.

Ah Shu wiped his face again. “He never wanted to die. He’s not going to die—he’s going to find the King. We… we can’t stop him.”

Song Shuo was shaken. This night felt like the most surreal of his life. Everyone in the residence was normally rational—but now, they were all insane.

Including himself. He was crazy too.

Because he stepped aside and let them pass.

Besides Gao Xunzhi and Xiao Rong, Zhang Biezhi and Agusheja also went along—at Xiao Rong’s request. He seemed to have calmed down, making arrangements step by step. Difa Ceng and the guards would protect the residence. In emergencies, they could call the army to defend Chenliu. After Xiao Rong left, Song Shuo would serve as the acting Governor, with the monk assisting. Their only mission: hold the city.

By the time Song Shuo learned all this, they were already about to leave—he didn’t even have the chance to question Xiao Rong.

Suddenly, the clouds parted. Cold moonlight poured down, illuminating the figures about to depart. Song Shuo couldn’t understand. Xiao Rong left so resolutely, without even a glance back at the city he’d built. He just handed it over. Wasn’t he afraid Song Shuo might betray him?

The sound of hooves faded into the distance. The night fell silent again.

Song Shuo murmured at the road ahead, “A bunch of lunatics.”

The next moment, he clenched his fists, overwhelmed, and turned to the monk he least liked. “What do I do?”

Mijing also stared ahead. He answered softly, “Don’t let down the ones who trust you.”

Song Shuo furrowed his brow at the empty street. After a long pause, he turned and walked back into the King’s residence.

 

Edited by: Antiope

 

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