The Winds and Clouds of the Desert

On the day of the summons to Guanghan Palace, the young women selected for diplomatic marriage paraded out from the embassy, each one resplendent in beauty and grace, drawing the gaze of countless onlookers, filling the streets with an air of excitement and festivity.

"Nashou, this king truly loves to show off!" Ye Pei, one of the maidservants, remarked, now dressed in elaborate finery, her own beauty on full display. It was her first time participating in such a grand ceremony, and she could not help but voice her thoughts.

"Foolish girl, this is no mere flaunting," Huang Beishuang replied with a faint smile. That day, she had taken great care in her appearance, her beauty radiant and enchanting, captivating all who laid eyes upon her. Her smile alone caused the onlookers to follow in throngs, their cheers echoing through the streets. Yet she remained indifferent, turning her head as she sat atop her horse, surveying the surroundings before continuing.

"He wants his people to witness the spectacle of nations paying homage. A king with a cunning mind, indeed."

"Nashou, are you lost in thought?" Ye Pei inquired, her keen observation not missing the slightest detail.

"Yes... a clever king rarely tolerates cleverness in others," Huang Beishuang murmured, her heart slightly uneasy.

"What do you mean by that, Nashou?" Ye Pei pressed further.

"In the future, we must tread carefully. Vanity in beauty is acceptable, but the desire for triumph must be curbed," she whispered, as if a plan had begun to take shape in her mind.

"Nashou... there's something I'm not sure if I should say," Ye Pei hesitated after a brief silence.

"Speak. Once we enter the palace, silence will be our greatest virtue," Huang Beishuang said with a gentle smile.

"Nashou... last night, you were dreaming, weren’t you?" Ye Pei asked cautiously.

"I don't know. What about it?" Huang Beishuang responded.

"You were calling out Lord Qing's name the entire night," Ye Pei carefully revealed.

"Really? It seems I still have much to work on in my self-discipline," Huang Beishuang replied with surprising candor, showing no embarrassment. Her hearty laughter lightened the mood, and Ye Pei and the other maidservants, seeing her openness, felt their own unease dissipate.

What kind of feeling was that? In the dream, she had called out his name incessantly... Huang Beishuang dared not think too deeply on it, for she feared that if her desire grew too strong, she might be overwhelmed by the impulse to abandon everything and follow Qingyun to the ends of the earth. Such a longing seemed foolish, for in truth, she knew little about him.

Who was he? Where had he come from? Where was he going?

She knew nothing, though their bond felt deep, they remained strangers to one another.

The palace loomed ahead, its grandeur like the vast expanse of the stars and moon, shining brightly. Inside Guanghan Hall, civil and military officials stood solemnly in two lines, flanking a regal crimson carpet that wound its way up the steps to the golden throne. Upon it sat King Nazhan, resplendent in his royal robes, his presence commanding and awe-inspiring. His gaze was sharp, his brow exuding the pride of an emperor, the very embodiment of supreme authority and charm.

All eyes turned toward the procession of maidens as they made their graceful entrance. The officials exchanged glances, their faces brimming with satisfaction and admiration. After all, in this vast desert kingdom, how many nations could boast of receiving such homage?

Only Yunpei could.

The maidens, one by one, knelt in a line, their heads bowed low. Princess Yuchang of Masui, the first to rise, stepped forward and offered her greeting.

"I am Yuchang of Masui, sent by my brother, the king, to express our nation's deep respect and friendship to Your Majesty."

Her voice trembled, her face pale with fear, overwhelmed by the imposing atmosphere of the court. Yet, despite her anxiety, she maintained the dignity of a princess, bowing with grace and speaking with clear, measured words. After her address, her attendants hurried forward with gifts of gold and jewels, their hands trembling with nervousness, beads of sweat forming on their brows as they feared making a mistake.

A soft laugh was heard from one of the king's consorts, who whispered something to Nazhan. He smiled and nodded slightly, and the consort spoke, her voice laced with mockery.

"I hear you’ve been quite comfortable at the embassy, stirring up trouble and causing quite a scene. But seeing you now, you're far less imposing. His Majesty has decided to leave you in my care for a time. Once the ceremony is over, you will accompany me to learn the ways of Guanghan Palace before serving His Majesty."

Yuchang was startled, her face blanching further. She had never imagined that someone of her status would be publicly humiliated in this way, subjected to such an obvious power play. It was a clear warning—this was not Masui.

Distressed, she retreated to the side, her face betraying her agitation. The other emissaries took secret delight in her plight, relishing the sight of someone so proud brought low. Glancing at the consort who had spoken so sharply, they were struck by her delicate beauty. She sat by the king’s side, her every glance radiating elegance and nobility. With a sigh, the others’ fleeting joy quickly turned to cold resignation. How could anyone hope to rival such a woman? To become a queen seemed a near-impossible dream.

Nazhan, looking down at the row of beauties before him, could not hide his satisfaction. A man of indulgence, he sought only the finest in all things, and that extended to his choice of companions. Only those who reached the pinnacle of excellence were deemed worthy to share his bed, to revel in nights of passion at his side.

Next came Princess Zhengfang of Guhe. She carried herself with composure, just barely passing the test. The subsequent maidens, gripped by fear, knelt and presented their offerings with trembling hands. It seemed they used every ounce of their courage just to make it through the ceremony. They stepped aside, exhaling deeply as if relieved to have survived the ordeal.

But no one expected what came next. Two figures, led by Zhujun, entered the grand hall, instantly electrifying the atmosphere. No one so much as blinked, and even the raised eyebrows remained frozen in shock. The four consorts beside the king were wide-eyed, as if faced with a formidable adversary.

Zhenqu Youjia and Huang Beishuang of Ernanqi stepped forward, introduced with special ceremony, following gracefully behind Zhujun. One radiated cold, unmatched beauty, while the other exuded warmth and grace. One was an embodiment of supreme elegance, the other a paragon of feminine allure.

Zhujun was exceedingly pleased—this was exactly the effect he had intended. Such dazzling beauty, how could there not be rivalry? The spectacle had only just begun, and already the court was enthralled. He had a premonition that one of these women would rise to greatness, her name echoing across the land.

And this was merely the beginning, the very first spark of what was to come.

The officials on both sides stood in stunned silence, unable to tear their gaze away from the two extraordinary women. They swallowed hard, for the brilliance of their beauty was as overwhelming as the sun and moon shining together. Never before had they witnessed such captivating allure—now two such marvels appeared, side by side, their beauty doubling the magnificence of the moment. A few of the more simple-minded generals even cast envious glances at the king.

“Your humble servant Zhenqu Youjia greets His Majesty. May the empire flourish through the ages, with all four corners of the world paying homage!”

Youjia was the first to speak, her voice soft yet commanding, her every movement graceful and enchanting. Her composure and strength of character instantly erased any memory of the other princesses. Those present couldn’t help but be captivated, certain that this beauty would soon reign supreme within the palace, showered in royal favor.

“I have brought with me the national treasure of Zhenqu, the Eternal Light Lamp of Luminous Jade, along with three chests of jewels and fine wines. I hope His Majesty will graciously accept them,” she continued with calm assurance, unfazed by the hostile glares from the king’s consorts. In her eyes shone an unshakable pride and poise, daring anyone to challenge her.

“You refer to yourself as ‘humble servant’?” Nazhan asked with a smile, clearly intrigued by her boldness.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I am here to serve you. What does status or rank matter?” Youjia raised her head and met his gaze unflinchingly. She was struck by his regal, handsome features—he exuded an air of authority that could not be defied, yet beneath it all lingered a hint of indulgent frivolity. Surely this was a man who had experienced countless pleasures. Despite the unsettling stir within her, Youjia did not waver, holding his gaze with defiant resolve.

“Very well. You may withdraw,” Nazhan said, his expression betraying no further interest. Although a fleeting trace of fascination had crossed his face, it quickly passed, and he seemed to lose interest in her.

He then turned his attention to the last of the kneeling beauties.

“You must be Huang Beishuang?” he said, speaking her name before she had a chance to introduce herself, a move that caused ripples of surprise throughout the hall. Who was this woman that the king knew her name without being told?

Huang Beishuang herself was taken aback, but she maintained her composure, carefully studying Nazhan. After a brief pause, she offered a gentle smile, her eyes glimmering with grace. Her maidservants suddenly began to dance and sing, their movements full of beauty and allure, filling the hall with an intoxicating air of enchantment. Amidst the melody and splendor, Huang Beishuang slowly lifted a small embroidered pouch from a square bundle, her serene and melodious voice filling the room.

“Huang Beishuang of Ernanqi greets His Majesty. I offer blessings to the Yunpei Empire, that it may be revered for ten thousand generations, eternal and unshaken.”

Her demeanor was calm and composed, matching Youjia’s poise in every way.

“And what gift have you brought? So small a thing?” one of the consorts could not resist scoffing, finally breaking her silence.

Huang Beishuang smiled, offering a small bow in response. The gesture, though slight, was enough to quell the consort’s impatience. She stared at Huang Beishuang for a long moment before signaling to her attendants to retrieve the offering.

It was no fault of theirs—most of their treasures had been stolen along the way, and simply arriving at this moment had been an arduous struggle.

Nazhan gazed at Huang Beishuang for a long while before finally turning his eyes to the consort beside him. The consort handed him the embroidered pouch. He squeezed it lightly and remarked, “Soil?”

The performance had ended, and the maidservants returned quietly to their mistress's side, kneeling in unison. Huang Beishuang bowed her head and said, “I offer the soil of Ernanqi, a symbol of our eternal loyalty and submission.”

These words clearly pleased Nazhan. He smiled and glanced at the now-open golden bundle, revealing a book—though beautifully bound, it was somewhat worn and tattered. The consort who held it hesitated, unsure whether to present it. But Nazhan’s expression sharpened, and he ordered, “Bring it here.”

“The Collected Chronicles of the Great Desert!”

Huang Beishuang rose to her feet, watching the king closely. She could see his pleasure at receiving such a rare and ancient tome, and at last, she allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief.

Nazhan’s gaze suddenly turned icy as he raised a brow at Wu Jihai beside him. Taking the hint, Wu Jihai swiftly drew his sword, the blade pressing coldly against Huang Beishuang’s neck. "You offer a book as tribute, and call that loyalty?" he snarled. Yet Huang Beishuang didn’t so much as flinch, turning her head calmly to meet his gaze, while the three maids beside her knelt, equally unmoved. Their unshaken composure caused Wu Jihai to hesitate for a moment, glancing back at Nazhan for further instruction.

Nazhan said nothing, simply studying the woman before him—her serene smile, starry eyes, and fair skin radiated a gentle yet captivating charm. With a wave of his hand, Wu Jihai sheathed his sword and stepped back.

"Does His Majesty like this book?" Huang Beishuang asked with a smile.

"I like the book," Nazhan replied with a grin, "but I’m not fond of the one who gave it."

His words left the onlookers in stunned silence. How could the king be displeased with such an extraordinary woman?

"Is that so? His Majesty’s words leave Huang Beishuang trembling with fear. Does this mean I will no longer have the honor of serving Your Majesty?" she asked, her voice calm, yet her heart stirred with unease. Nazhan was, like Qingyun and Ruowen before him, another man whose depths she could not easily fathom—too profound, too unpredictable, and it sent a shiver of apprehension through her.

Suddenly, realizing her thoughts had wandered, she quickly lowered her head. Nazhan, glancing around at the courtiers, seemed uninterested in continuing the exchange. He leaned back against the throne and said, "Except for Zhenqu Youjia and Huang Beishuang of Ernanqi, the rest will be assigned by the envoy Zhujun to their respective fates. Those who serve in the court may take their pick for marriage. Dismissed—prepare for tonight's investiture ceremony."

The weight of his decree nearly caused the other young women to collapse in shock. The king's words made it clear—they were to be distributed among the court officials, while only the two supreme beauties would enter his harem. What fate awaited them now?

That day, a fleeting glimmer of memory passed through your eyes. I wanted to ask you—who was it that crossed your mind? Who could it be that kept you at my side, yet your heart remained elsewhere?

But I did not ask. To ask would mean needing to know. Was there something more than your homeland's soil within that embroidered pouch—something of the calm resolve with which you viewed the world?

Who are you? And whom are you thinking of? And as for me—who am I? Who am I to you?

To the north of the desert, the winds raged and the sands roared. This was the season when dust storms were most frequent, and it also marked the time when many small tribes would migrate. In the distance, through the haze of swirling sands, figures could be seen silently moving forward. The soft jingle of camel bells echoed faintly in the wind. This was likely a band of desert nomads, separated from their tribe, laden with provisions and jewels. Weariness etched their faces, for they had to find shelter before sunset to escape the impending storm.

Boom! Boom! The thunderous sound of hooves suddenly shattered the air, clear and unmistakable even amidst the desert’s expanse. In the deep sands of the desert, such sounds could only mean one thing. The leader of the nomads turned pale with realization and shouted frantically, "Abandon everything! Run for your lives!"

His voice trembled with panic, betraying the full extent of his fear. The group, numbering just over a thousand, descended into chaos, panicked as if a boiling pot had been upturned. How could they not be terrified? Looking to the distance, they saw the approaching riders, the hellish banners fluttering wildly in the wind, and the crazed cries crashing over them like waves, swallowing the helpless nomads. Who were they?

Yellow banners emblazoned with white crowns, twisting and writhing in the fierce wind—a terrifying sight.

The Yellow Sky Berserker Legion.

"Where do you think you’re going?"

The vanguard, Manhu, sneered, his voice cold and sharp. He chuckled darkly, turning to the opposite flank where Wolfhead had already led his troops to encircle the nomads.

"Looks like I got here first, eh?" Manhu jeered.

Wolfhead twitched his lips in disdain. "We'll see who wins in the arena. Being fast on horseback means nothing," he retorted. Both men laughed cruelly, their sinister delight unmoved by the terror of the nomads they had trapped like rats in a cage.

The thousand or so nomads were paralyzed with fear, their hearts pounding in their chests. Some thought of fleeing, others contemplated feigning death, and still more were too overwhelmed to know what to do. Yet whatever thoughts they harbored, all were crushed into silence the moment their leader appeared—Ruowen, commander of the Yellow Sky Berserkers. His black, soulless eyes held no mercy, and none dared to meet his gaze.

"Do you want to live?" Ruowen asked slowly.

Not a sound. No one felt even a glimmer of hope in his words.

In one swift, fluid motion, Ruowen beheaded a nomad before him, his expression as cold as the blade he wielded. Blood streamed down the sword’s edge, and for a moment, even the howling winds seemed to freeze around him. In the world that surrounded Ruowen, there was only stillness. Any who came too close would face the same fate—death without mercy.

"Do you want to live?" he repeated, raising his bloodied sword to the crowd, his voice chilling to the bone.

"Yes! We want to live!" The response, disjointed and panicked, spilled out of their mouths. Their fear had shattered any semblance of composure.

"I need fifty of you—no matter the gender or age. Whoever survives by any means necessary will leave with me!" Ruowen’s voice cut through the air as he wiped his curved blade against his horse’s saddle before finally sheathing it.

The nomads exchanged uncertain glances, unsure of what to do next, until Luying shouted, "Listen up! If you have a mother, you can kill her. If you have a wife, you can kill her too. If you want your sons to live, kill others and then yourself. Use whatever method you can think of. You have three hours. After that, if more than fifty remain, we’ll cut down the rest ourselves! Don’t even think about escaping. If you make a mistake, we’ll slaughter every last one of you!"

The people stood frozen, unable to believe their ears. They stared blankly at the deranged soldiers surrounding them, on the verge of fainting. Were these men even human? No, they were bloodthirsty demons, reveling in the carnage.

"What are you waiting for? Start killing!"

At this command, the nomads, howling in desperation, turned on each other. Though they knew the horror of taking a life, though they knew the blood they spilled was that of their own kin, the desert was soon soaked in blood and filled with the red glow of frenzied eyes. They fought like madmen, driven by a primal instinct to survive at any cost.

The Yellow Sky Berserker Legion—their only creed was complete and utter madness.

While blood splattered beneath the hooves and the scene grew unbearable, far across the desert, the air within Guanghan Palace was filled with a different kind of tension—one of desire and intrigue.

"Your Majesty, Consort Yun is waiting outside," Zhujun said, watching Nazhan, who remained absorbed in his paperwork. Seeing no reaction, Zhujun bowed slightly and stood aside.

"Send her away," Nazhan’s voice was devoid of emotion. After a brief pause, he looked up and added, "Summon Consort Jia and Consort Shuang to attend me."

These were, of course, Zhenqu Youjia and Huang Beishuang, who had been officially enshrined as consorts that very evening. Zhujun smiled knowingly, guessing the king had invited both women to see how they would compete for his favor.

"Consort Jia, Consort Shuang, please wait here. Don’t be too nervous. His Majesty will be with you shortly." Zhujun led the two women to the bedchamber and quickly excused himself, not daring to linger. Even a brief glance at such beauties would inspire far too much pity. How many men could resist such perfection? Swallowing hard, he made a hasty exit.

Youjia, sitting anxiously on the edge of the bed, glanced at Huang Beishuang. Perhaps seeking to ease her own tension, she blurted out, "Have you ever been with a man, Consort Shuang?"

Huang Beishuang, momentarily distracted by her thoughts, was caught off guard. "No," she replied simply.

"Neither have I," Youjia muttered, slightly flustered.

Seeing her unease, Huang Beishuang chuckled softly to herself. Despite Youjia’s outward pride and strength, she was still just a young girl, inexperienced in the ways of men. To be expected to serve a man like Nazhan without any confidence—no wonder she was shaken. Yet, upon reflecting, Huang Beishuang realized she too felt a vague sense of unease. Not fear, but a restless dissatisfaction, as if she couldn’t stop thinking of Qingyun.

Before long, Nazhan strolled into the room, his hair still damp, wearing nothing but his night robe. His relaxed, almost lazy demeanor hinted at indulgence. He sat casually on the bed, and Youjia immediately sprang up, moving to stand beside Huang Beishuang. Together, they bowed deeply in greeting.

Nazhan smirked, his expression devilish as he beckoned them to join him. Youjia hesitated for a moment before stepping forward, her graceful steps light as a lotus flower, while Huang Beishuang remained kneeling on the floor.

"Is something wrong?" Nazhan asked, pulling Youjia close without so much as a glance at Huang Beishuang.

"I am unwell, Your Majesty. I cannot allow you near me," she said, keeping her head bowed.

"Very well. Find somewhere to rest, but don’t leave the room," Nazhan muttered, his voice thick with lust as he turned his full attention to Youjia.

Huang Beishuang was momentarily stunned by how easily he had dismissed her. She hadn’t expected to escape so quickly. Perhaps, she mused, with one beauty already in his arms, Nazhan’s attentions were divided. A faint smile played on her lips.

She began to wander around the room, her gaze eventually landing on a small table near the window. There, bathed in moonlight, lay the Collected Chronicles of the Great Desert, the very book she had gifted earlier that day. Drawn to it, she picked it up and began to read, her mind entirely engrossed in its pages, unaffected by the soft moans of pleasure that filled the room.

The book had a special significance. When she was a child, she had once saved a wandering traveler in the northern desert. The man, old and frail, had stayed in Ernanqi for just three months before passing away. Before his death, he had entrusted the Collected Chronicles to her.

Young as she was, Huang Beishuang’s brilliance shone early, and she became fascinated by the book, which detailed the vast desert’s geography, climate, cultures, and history from north to south. Her father and brother had once taken an interest in it as well, but ultimately, they deemed the work of little use to their small desert tribe in the north. However, for Huang Beishuang, this book became a treasure trove of knowledge, offering her insights beyond the boundaries of her homeland.

Living on a small oasis with a population of only around seven thousand, there was little curiosity about the wider world. Moreover, the complex principles behind geographic and climatic changes described in the book were difficult for most to grasp.

By now, Huang Beishuang had memorized the entire Collected Chronicles of the Great Desert by heart, yet there were still parts she could not fully comprehend. Each time she revisited it, her understanding deepened, uncovering new layers of knowledge. Without such insight, how else could she have commanded Ruowen's two thousand troops and successfully reached Yunpei?

"If you like this book so much, take it," came Nazhan’s sudden voice, startling Huang Beishuang. She quickly rose to her feet, realizing she hadn’t noticed the peculiar silence that had filled the room. A glance revealed Youjia already asleep from exhaustion. Huang Beishuang lowered her head, wondering if it was now her turn.

Nazhan, however, found the situation amusing. He sat down and casually flipped through the pages of the Collected Chronicles, asking, "Do you really like this book?" His eyes studied her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.

Huang Beishuang, knowing it was useless to lie, promptly answered, "Yes, I do. I like it very much."

"You’re the first woman who’s ever liked this book," Nazhan remarked, tossing the volume aside.

Unable to discern Nazhan’s intentions, Huang Beishuang maintained her silence.

"Do you know who wrote this book?" Nazhan’s voice broke the quiet again, his figure half-illuminated by the moonlight, as if he were slipping into another world, his presence deep and unfathomable.

"I'm not sure," Huang Beishuang replied, "The book was given to me in my youth by a man named Rongruo."

"Ah! Rongruo stole it. The author of this book was my great-grandfather, the thirty-third king of Yunpei, Na Qida!" Nazhan’s revelation left Huang Beishuang utterly astonished, cold sweat beading on her brow.

"Have you read the whole book?" Nazhan asked.

"Yes, I’ve read it all," Huang Beishuang confirmed.

"Chapter Three, Section Ten—what does it say?" Nazhan asked leisurely.

"Chapter Three, Section Ten elaborates on the behavior of sandstorms and details the largest erosion event in history," Huang Beishuang answered with precision.

"And what about Chapter Five, Section Three?" Nazhan pressed on.

"Chapter Five, Section Three describes the distribution and activity patterns of fixed, semi-fixed, and mobile sand dunes in the northern desert. It also predicts three major sand migration events across the Zhunghoda Desert. The first occurred in the year 311, the second in 320, and the third is expected to happen three years from now," Huang Beishuang responded confidently.

"Chapter Ten, Section Thirteen?" Nazhan asked, his interest clearly piqued.

"Chapter Ten, Section Thirteen provides an account of the five ruling nations and the formation of various enslaved and nomadic peoples. It also offers a detailed analysis of the ancient Tian Dynasty’s rise, dating back over a thousand years. I remember it said: ‘A thousand years of decline—who could foresee such desolation? The lands of the Tian Dynasty once stretched a million miles, encircled by verdant mountains and flowing rivers, nurturing countless souls. Its people numbered but sixty-one clans, and the supreme ruler held the power over life and death, wielding authority over reward and punishment!’"

Huang Beishuang had always been particularly fascinated by this passage, which is why it remained etched in her memory.

Hearing her precise and flawless answers, Nazhan began to applaud, clearly impressed. "Well done! It seems you’ve not only read it but have mastered its contents," he said with an uncharacteristically bright expression that left Huang Beishuang momentarily disoriented. What startled her even more was that Nazhan himself seemed intimately familiar with the Collected Chronicles. Every word appeared to be ingrained in his memory, leading her to realize that the royal palace must have had its own copy of the book all along. She felt a bit foolish for having sacrificed her cherished possession in offering it to him.

"Now, can you tell me what is written on page 501 of the Collected Chronicles?" Nazhan asked, this time with a playful, almost childlike curiosity as he shook the book in his hands.

"Your Majesty, since the day I received this book, page 501 has been torn out. Besides, all the crucial passages conclude within the first five hundred pages, so there’s no need to concern yourself with that last page," Huang Beishuang answered, her voice calm and steady.

Nazhan chuckled lightly.

"Huang Beishuang, do you know why I haven’t laid a hand on you?" he asked.

"Because I am unwell," Huang Beishuang replied.

At her words, Nazhan suddenly reached out to gently touch her face, causing her to shudder slightly.

"You faced Ruowen’s forces without a hint of fear. So why, in my presence, do you tremble?" Nazhan withdrew his hand, his gaze fixed on Huang Beishuang, who struggled to respond. He then spoke words that seemed to belong to a dream.

"Huang Beishuang, I need a woman like you. That’s why I’m willing to forgo possessing you. If you wish, we can be husband and wife. If you don’t, we can simply be confidants."

Huang Beishuang’s heart was thrown into turmoil. Clearly, Nazhan had investigated every detail of her past, and now he had made this unexpected declaration, leaving her unsure whether this turn of events was a blessing or a curse.

The two sat by the small table near the window, remaining silent for a long time.

The next day, Huang Beishuang returned to her chambers, utterly exhausted. Her three maids hurried to her side to support her.

"Nashou, last night…" Ye Pei’s voice was filled with concern, though she dared not speak too directly of what had transpired.

"Last night, I simply talked with His Majesty. It’s nothing," Huang Beishuang replied. She was utterly drained, her thoughts tangled as she collapsed onto the bed. What exactly had Nazhan meant with his words? She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was much more beneath the surface.

Suddenly, there came a knock at the door. Zai Ping tiptoed to open it, revealing General Wu Jihai, a rare sight in the harem. His expression was serious, and his eyes conflicted, as though he found this place deeply uncomfortable. His awkwardness was almost palpable. With a snap, he presented a brocade box. "His Majesty has ordered me to personally deliver this to Consort Shuang," he said briskly, his words clear and precise.

Huang Beishuang nodded, and Lian Huan, standing by the door, took the box. For a moment, as the two imposing men exchanged the gift, a strange chill filled the air. They sized each other up, and in that instant, a silent tension crackled between them. Wu Jihai was no ordinary guard, that much was clear to Lian Huan. Few men could match him in strength, yet here stood one who could.

Glancing at Huang Beishuang as she lay on the bed, being massaged by two maids to relieve her fatigue, Wu Jihai thought to himself, This woman is truly remarkable. Though I come to deliver a gift on His Majesty's behalf, it feels as though I've entered the chambers of a queen. Her aura was regal and profound, far beyond what one would expect of a mere consort. Who is she, really?

With no answers to his swirling thoughts, Wu Jihai withdrew, his mind heavy with questions.

Huang Beishuang opened the box, her heart still. Inside was a book. Without hesitation, she flipped to the last page. As expected, it was a complete copy of the Collected Chronicles of the Great Desert. On page 501, inscribed by Nazhan's great-grandfather, King Na Qida, was the cryptic message:

In the cold moon beneath the rain, only by the shroud of a horse’s hide can one be called king, but never emperor.

Huang Beishuang’s hands trembled slightly as she read the words. She gently placed the book back into the box and sat on the edge of the bed, releasing a deep sigh. Seeing the furrow in her brow, both Ye Pei and Lian Huan exchanged glances, uncertain of what could have caused their mistress such distress.

Looking up, Huang Beishuang asked Ye Pei, "Do you think you could ever coexist peacefully with the people of Nakuo?"

Her tone was unusually serious.

Ye Pei thought for a moment before responding, "You are our mistress now. If you command us to make peace, we will do so. But if I’m honest, even if we appear friendly on the surface, it’s hard to imagine there will ever be true harmony between us. I suspect they feel the same. In the north, the largest ruling power is Tiandu, but they have isolated themselves and rarely involve themselves in the affairs of other tribes. The two largest slave tribes are Ernanqi and Nakuo, and the grievances between our peoples run deep. We've stolen from each other, killed each other—each side has been trying to survive in any way it can. And if it weren’t for the support of greater powers, keeping the balance in check, I doubt either side would stop until the other was completely annihilated. The land is limited, the resources scarce. What else can we do? This is simply the will of the heavens."

At that moment, Lian Huan seemed to have a realization. "Nashou, I’ve always believed that if the oases in the desert weren’t so scattered, and if some of them didn’t shift from time to time, perhaps the different tribes wouldn’t be so divided. Maybe there wouldn’t be so many conflicts."

Huang Beishuang smiled at his words. "You may not have seen much of the world, but you've clearly given it some thought. I’ve underestimated you both! Still, Lian Huan, Ye Pei, you must remember—so long as I remain in this palace, as long as I am still His Majesty’s consort, you must address me as Consort Shuang. Do not call me Nashou anymore. If someone with loose lips hears it, they could spread rumors that would be difficult to contain."

Realizing his mistake, Lian Huan quickly nodded and apologized.

Huang Beishuang adjusted her robe and lay back on the soft pillow at the head of the bed. Her gaze wandered to the ornate carvings and sparkling jewels adorning the bed frame. The sight was almost dreamlike, filling her with a strange, inexplicable urge. For a fleeting moment, she wished she could simply lie there, never to rise again.

Closing her eyes, another question surfaced in her mind.

"What kind of man do you think Nazhan is?" she asked, her voice soft as a whisper.

Ye Pei lowered the gauze curtain around Huang Beishuang’s bed and said softly, "Your humble servant believes that the king is a man of boundless ambition. He is domineering and absolute in his power. People say he intends to unify the entire desert, and it seems they aren't wrong. What does Consort Shuang think?"

Huang Beishuang turned her head, gazing at the figure bustling outside the curtains, and replied slowly, "How foolish we are. I always thought that arriving in Yunpei would mean facing unprecedented disaster, but who would have guessed—this is the most peaceful place I've known."

Ye Pei looked back at Huang Beishuang, who appeared to be asleep, and asked, "Has Consort Shuang fallen asleep?"

Huang Beishuang, with a faint smile playing on her lips, whispered, "Seeing people through gauze is like viewing flowers in the mist. Beauty—it is not quite the beauty you imagine. Ugliness—it is never as ugly as you think."

Ye Pei inclined her head slightly toward the bed and said, "Whenever Consort Shuang says things beyond our understanding, your humble servant knows that something is brewing. But for me, as long as I can follow you, nothing else matters. Please rest well. Even if there is something pressing, surely you deserve a moment to catch your breath. I will take my leave now; Zai Ping and Dao Qiu will take turns attending to you tonight."

As Ye Pei finished speaking, Huang Beishuang truly drifted into sleep. She had been too tired—constantly on edge, calculating every move. Yet now, in this imperial palace, she found an unexpected sense of calm. As she closed her eyes, she murmured a few words to herself, so faint they could barely be heard: "Let’s just be confidants."

Huang Beishuang slept deeply until the middle of the night. When she awoke, her stomach growled with hunger. Just as she was about to get up and find something to eat, Nazhan entered the room effortlessly. Zai Ping and Dao Qiu were kneeling beside her, unaware that she had already woken.

"Awake?" Nazhan asked as he sat by the bed, his expression gentle.

"Yes, just now," Huang Beishuang replied, though she felt uneasy. Deep down, she knew that even now, she still hadn’t forgotten Qingyun. It wasn’t that she needed to forget him; rather, she simply felt that she shouldn’t let herself be so affected. The idea of accepting another man felt foreign to her, and she worried that, in time, even Nazhan’s patience would wear thin.

"Hungry?" Nazhan asked, his tone surprisingly tender, so different from when they first met. "Tell Zai Ping to bring some supper for Consort Shuang. After sleeping all day, she must be famished."

This unexpected kindness from Nazhan only unsettled Huang Beishuang further.

Seeing the weight of her thoughts reflected on her face, Nazhan asked, "Did you read the book I had Wu Jihai deliver yesterday?"

Huang Beishuang nodded and responded, "What is it that His Majesty wishes me to do?"

"First, tell me what that single word of fate means."

"Isn’t it obvious? The word is 'dominion.' The following lines explain it: though someone may rule with dominion over these vast lands, no one can unify them. One may become a king, but never an emperor."

Nazhan smiled, clearly satisfied with her answer. "And do you believe I cannot become an emperor?"

"I would not dare to speculate," Huang Beishuang answered cautiously. "But since His Majesty has shown me this word of fate, I assume you hold it in high regard."

Nazhan gazed at her, as if this time, something crucial had to be resolved between them.

In this palace, snow had never graced the ground,The deep courtyards were always a place of hurried footsteps.Though the past may have blown away like the wind,Its sting still lingers, biting deep into the bones.I knew, I always knew,A single word could reveal the will of the heavens.Yet I did not know, I could not know,To follow fate or defy oneself—what desolation such choices bring!