Rebellion of the Three Lords? Hong Ning had indeed heard Miss Su and the others mention something like that, and now her unease deepened. When she parted ways with Yang Zhen, she hadn’t gotten far before fainting—surely she hadn’t even left Chong Zhou. Later, Duan Fei rescued her and brought her to his private residence in Ganzhou, and curiously, no one had ever asked about her origins. Could it be… that Ganzhou wasn’t even near Chong Zhou?
She urgently asked, “Where is Chong Zhou?”
Xiao Yun looked baffled. “What’s Chong Zhou?”
Hong Ning’s heart pounded. She murmured, half to herself, “We’re far from Chong Zhou?”
Xiao Yun laughed. “Miss, what are you saying? I may not know many characters, but I do know the place names of this dynasty. I’ve never heard of any Chong Zhou. Even that Lizhou you mentioned—I’ve never heard anyone mention it either.”
There is no Chong Zhou!
A thunderclap sounded inside her mind. At last, Hong Ning understood where all the disquiet she had been feeling was coming from. It was utterly unbelievable. She stood frozen in shock for a long moment before murmuring, “What year is it now?”
Xiao Yun blinked. “It’s the fifth year of the Shunde era.”
The fifth year of Shunde?!
What Shunde era?! She remembered it perfectly—this was supposed to be the tenth year of Taihe! Peace reigned across the land—there was never any rebellion by Three Lords!
Her legs weakened. She gripped the nearby corridor pillar for support. Her mind was in chaos.
“Xiao Hongcha, what’s wrong?”
“Come out quickly. I bought something nice for you.”
…The voices echoed by her ear, as if from just yesterday. She couldn’t tell whether it was a long-buried memory or a dream.
“Miss?” Xiao Yun tugged at her sleeve, concerned.
Suddenly, Hong Ning grabbed her arm. “What day is it today?”
Xiao Yun said, “The fifteenth of the third month.”
The fifteenth of the third month!
“No… no, it can’t be!”
Hong Ning’s face went pale. She stumbled back a few steps, then whirled around and bolted toward the flower garden—like someone possessed.
In no more than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the clouds scattered and the wind died down. The sky returned to its clear brilliance. Sunlight poured brightly over everything, and from behind the distant high garden walls came the sound of weeping—some real, some perhaps only imagined.
Hong Ning burst through the garden gate, ran a few steps, and then froze.
A group of people was approaching, carrying a bamboo stretcher.
His white robes were stained with dust, and his chest was soaked with wide swaths of blood—yet more was still flowing steadily from his mouth, seeping through the slats of the stretcher, leaving a crimson trail along the path.
That face remained as handsome and dashing as ever, just like the first time she had seen him.
As they passed her, Hong Ning reached out, dazed, wanting to touch his face, to wipe the blood from it with her sleeve.
But it was like trying to grasp empty air—intangible, fleeting.
She stood there with her arm still outstretched, utterly still, lost in a trance.
He seemed as if he were trying to sit up. He lifted his face with difficulty—not looking at her, not looking at anyone. Those eyes, once wild and carefree, now filled with solitude, stared toward a single direction. His gaze was beginning to fade, but still burned with obsession. Within it were confusion and regret, an unfulfilled wish, and above all, hope…
A flourishing cluster of red camellias withered in an instant—the branches shriveling, the leaves collapsing.
Her lips lifted in a faint smile. Tears streamed down.
Hong Ning stood quietly, gazing at his face as they carried him farther and farther away. Everything around her began to blur and dissolve—the dazzling sunlight, the camellias, the towering stones, the bamboo grove…
Yet in her memory, the story of that flirtatious young man and the little camellia grew clearer than ever.
On a desolate mountain slope, she stood alone.
Behind her came a soft sigh. “You remember now?”
Hong Ning slowly turned around, that same dazed, lingering smile on her face. “The Divine Lord remembers too.”
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