Chapter 67

Raindrops fell as the wind blew, a pale, gentle light piercing the clouds, landing on the worn bamboo hat and the damp thatched eaves.

Gu Wan dashed out, flying toward the one who had returned through wind and rain. All the comforting analyses she’d offered herself were powerless against the true depth of her worry and uncertainty. The moment she truly saw him return, the welling emotions nearly exploded out of her.

Xie Ci caught her, absorbing the force of her desperate embrace—her sudden joy mirrored in the impact. His stance was steady, unmoving. Both of them were overwhelmed, tears stinging their eyes in that instant.

"Xie Ci! Xie Ci!"

"I'm here, I'm here, I've come back," Xie Ci said, forcing down the tumultuous feelings within. They separated slightly, standing together under the moss-grown steps beneath the eaves. "It's all right now. It's over."

He looked into Gu Wan’s reddened eyes. She blinked hard and smiled, happiness breaking through. He closed his own eyes briefly, then smiled as well.

Everyone quickly poured out. Many had heard the first pounding of hooves. Footsteps thundered down the wooden stairs, some so eager—like Qin Guan and Chen Luo—they simply jumped out the second-story window.

Qin Ying was the second to emerge, having lived on the first floor, near the door. Her hair and front were wet from having spilled her washbasin as she rushed outside. Tears sprang into her eyes.

"Second Sister-in-law, I'm back," Xie Ci called to her.

Qin Ying forced her eyes wide, nodding fiercely, "As long as you're back, as long as you're back." She wiped her eyes with both hands, crying and smiling at once.

Everyone gathered. Outside the modest country inn, the crowd was thick with excitement.

Xie Ci surveyed the group for a moment. At last, he said calmly, "Pack up—we head to the capital at once." The pain of having flesh torn from bone was not new to him; he was used to it. Even in the terror of life and death, his mind had never lost its clarity. The moment he left the palace, the cold wind brought him back to calm.

He looked at everyone, then finally at Qin Ying, and at last his gaze settled on Gu Wan. His voice was hoarse, "We are returning to the Duke Loyal and Courageous’s residence."

The most unattainable thing, when finally within reach, is often ground to dust by the long, harrowing process of getting there. The recent risks had been so dire that, when the final moment arrived, his heart felt like an unyielding stone. This victory was no stroke of luck; it was the result of his utmost effort.

Xie Ci looked up at the sky. Rain clouds swirled, black masses meeting the biting wind.

The year of Ji-chou, the thirtieth day of the eighth month.

The forty-first year of Longqing’s reign, as the current emperor celebrated his sixtieth birthday.

Sixty years—a full cycle of the heavenly stems and earthly branches, known as one "jiazi." On this birthday, the year, month, day, and hour all matched the moment of the emperor’s birth, making sixty a number of immense importance and meaning. It was only reasonable, then, that the imperial amnesty should be broader than ever.

The Longqing Emperor, beset by illness, had been indifferent to his birthday, but now suddenly became enthusiastic. Two days before the celebration, he summoned officials from the Ministry of Rites to discuss the ceremonial arrangements. Soon after, he ordered the Secretariat, the Department of State Affairs, and the Chancellery to draft the edict of amnesty.

At first, the edict seemed unremarkable, but it soon became the fuse that ignited the entire tense atmosphere of Zhongdu!

Unbeknownst to many, the edict quietly included the Xie family of the former Duke Loyal and Courageous, who had been executed or exiled three years earlier: "Crimes forgiven, past grievances forgotten; if they reform and prove their abilities, they may be employed and promoted as before."

On that same day, three imperial decrees were issued in succession. The first was a re-examination and bestowal of rewards for the Northwest campaign, submitted by the Ministry of War, with the Black Armored Young General and Li Yi prominent in the list.

The second and third decrees revealed Xie Ci's identity as the Black Armored Young General, commending his great service in repelling the invaders. The news sent shockwaves through the court and the capital!

On the day of the decrees, Xie Ci, son of the late Duke Xie Xinchong, was granted the title Protector-General of the North, transferred to Zhongdu, and appointed Grand Commandant of Cavalry, Chancellor of the Secretariat, with authority over both military and civil affairs, commanding the Left and Right Imperial Guards of the capital.

Likewise, Prince Xiao Shan—Li Yi—was granted the title Protector-General of Fanlu, transferred to Zhongdu, made General Who Stabilizes the Nation and Chancellor of the Secretariat, commanding the Rear Guard.

Since the emperor's collapse two years earlier and his long illness, the Secretariat, court, and capital garrison had lost half their strength. The fierce struggle between imperial and ministerial power had made the capital’s atmosphere stifling, as if awaiting a bloodbath. Beneath the surface calm, tension was so thick it could not be torn apart.

Today, the twin edicts struck like a bloody thunderbolt, ripping through this stalemate with stunning force. The entire capital was shaken, every faction affected, even the royalists.

But all these storms outside had little to do with Xie Ci and his people for the moment.

They could not hear it yet.

Nor did they wish to.

On this brilliant autumn afternoon, Xie Ci, the Xie family, Qin Ying, and Gu Wan finally received the amnesty.

The eunuch in his silver and purple robe proclaimed, "His Majesty holds no grudge for the past, and hopes you will serve loyally from now on. Do not be negligent. Thus commanded!"

Snow-white silk, black ink, golden yellow brocade, and an exquisitely embroidered five-clawed dragon—all mounted in a zitan wood scroll, gleaming gold in the sunlight.

Xie Ci knelt, accepting the weighty edicts. From this day forth, the Xie family could stand in the sun once more. He was Xie Ci.

No longer Chen Lang, or Chen Huan Zhuju.

The eunuch and his retinue mounted and rode away. Xie Ci stood, unrolled the two decrees, and read them. He turned to Qin Ying and Gu Wan, tears sparkling in their eyes, and said, "Let's go home."

Yes, home.

One line in the decree was special: the original residence of the Duke Loyal and Courageous was restored to Xie Ci. As he had expected.

This was no imperial favor, but a matter of practicality—the only vacant mansion within the inner city, beside the imperial palace, large and dignified enough to rival those of Lord Lin and Feng Kun, was this one, untouched since the Xie family’s disgrace.

After the confiscation of the Xie estate, the mansion had been sealed and emptied. No one else dared live in it; those who qualified declined, unwilling to invite trouble.

So, the mansion remained empty, sealed with imperial wax.

No matter how unshakeable his heart, Xie Ci’s eyes brimmed with tears at this moment. He turned to Qin Ying and Gu Wan, "I’ll take you home."

The mansion was imposing, solemn. Though neglected for years, its noble aura lingered.

Xie Ci refused the Ministry of Works’ offer to clean. He led Gu Wan, Qin Ying, and the others along the long stone-paved street, past neighbors’ curious, complicated glances, right to the main gate.

He ascended the steps, tore off the seals, and pushed open the great doors.

With a creak, the familiar, majestic front hall came into view.

Qin Ying broke down in tears.

Xie Ci closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

Everyone wept and laughed, overtaken by emotion—even stoic men like Qin Guan wiped their eyes. The Xie family guards, Xie Yun and Xie Feng among them, wept openly.

After a cathartic outpouring, smiles returned. No matter what, they were finally home.

Home to this house of heroes.

Xie Yun, Xie Feng, and the young men embraced, wiped their tears, and set about cleaning.

Qin Guan, He Yuan, and the rest split up—some shopped and cooked, others hauled water or swept.

Xie Ci had already sent word north. The Protector-General’s office in the north could be reorganized according to old regulations—Qin Xian and Chen Yan would handle it. Orders from the capital likely had already arrived in the north.

Xie Ci sat on the flying eaves and spoke.

He and Li Yi were both men of substance; their subordinates, like Qin Xian and Chen Yan, immediately began assembling staff upon return. Letters flew back and forth; Zhang Qing had already brought people back, as had Xie Yun and Xie Feng.

Soon, the northern command would be rebuilt, the mansion restored to its former bustle with guards and servants.

But first, they would all celebrate this hard-won moment.

Chen Lang personally led the shopping, returning with heaps of fresh produce and provisions. Chen Luo helped carry everything. The young Xie guards donned headscarves and aprons, cooking up a storm in the newly cleaned kitchen.

The banquet was laid in the main hall, a collective effort. For Qin Guan and Chen Luo, it was perhaps a first, and everyone was excited and happy.

Xie Ci sat at the head—his father’s old place—before the mural of wind-swept mountains he’d cleaned himself. Raising his cup, he declared, "To all of you! For following me to this day, I will never forget you. Cheers!"

"Cheers!"

Qin Guan, Chen Luo, He Yuan, and the others stood, raising their cups. The full hall echoed with their shouts, and they toasted Xie Ci in turn.

After this uplifting celebration, the drinking was moderate. Qin Guan and Xie Feng discussed the night watch, Xie Yun and the others stood guard, and Qin Ying retired to her room.

Returning to this old home, wine in his veins, emotions surged. Qin Ying smiled and said she'd go rest.

One by one, the others left. The main hall and courtyard were quickly tidied, regaining their solemn simplicity.

Xie Ci stood quietly in the corridor, then took Gu Wan up to the roof. Together, they watched Qin Ying’s figure recede—pausing now and then, lingering for a long time before finally disappearing down the western corridor toward her old courtyard.

Xie Ci watched silently, his gaze following her until she vanished.

For a long moment, he looked back at the familiar layered eaves, the rooftops rising and falling toward the open space at the end—where the drill ground and garden lay.

In the past, he and Gu Wan had lived in separate quarters, unfamiliar with each other. Even in their brief fortnight of marriage, he’d never thought to show her his own domain.

He never expected to have this chance again. Now that he did, he wanted to show her.

Gu Wan stretched, smiling, "All right!"

Xie Ci jumped down; Gu Wan steadied herself on the side wall of the front courtyard and followed. Her skills had improved; she no longer needed Xie Ci to help her—she preferred to jump herself, not liking to appear weak.

Xie Ci grinned at her, then grew serious. Turning, he led her toward the eastern corridor.

His father had lived in the first courtyard on the east side; he, in the second. When he left, he’d deliberately avoided the first, taking a back route past the main hall.

The ground was paved with polished blue stone, wide corridors, black tiles, red and black railings and columns. The beams and rafters were painted mostly in blue and ink, giving the grand house an air of austere elegance.

Xie Ci led Gu Wan through corridors and moon gates, past auxiliary halls, finally reaching a two-courtyard compound of blue brick and black tile.

When he was young, the courtyard had been full of color. Two large blue-glazed water vats under the eaves were now full of rainwater from the night before. In them grew bowl-lotus plants—though the Mid-Autumn Festival had passed, they were not yet withered. One green leaf stretched out, beside two plump, fist-sized seed pods.

Xie Ci ran to the vats. "These... I planted them when I was ten. I thought they’d die, but they grew back. I used to watch them bloom here all the time."

There were both lotus and water lilies. In blooming season, his first act each morning was to dash out and admire them.

In those days, Xie Ci was proud and lively, always wearing bright colors—red, blue, green, purple—fiery as his own nature.

The house had been cleaned; many broken things had been carried out, others left as they were.

Gu Wan saw a red lacquer rocking horse. Xie Ci stood beside it. "That was mine as a child. My mother said I loved to ride it."

Every day it was "giddy-up, giddy-up." After a scolding, he’d mount it with his little whip, threatening to run away to his uncle’s and not come home.

Xie Ci sighed, showing her his weapon rack, study, desk, and his bedroom with its moon-door, the poplar bed set there since his birth.

The Xie family’s furniture was simple—not expensive, but well-preserved. Cleaned up, it looked almost as it once did, except for the faded curtains and covers.

He gazed at it for a long time. "Let me show you the drill ground. As a boy, I always practiced martial arts first, then read and wrote, then played in the afternoons."

They followed the corridor north, through the inner and outer residences, and pushed open two black lacquered gates. Before them stretched the drill ground and great garden, each occupying a third of the estate, separated by a small connecting gate.

Xie Ci’s voice grew more animated. "You know, before I was born, this was all drill ground. My father—Xie Xinchong—insisted that a general’s house must have a training field. No garden, just drill ground."

"But Mother protested, saying he was rarely home; why have so much drill ground and nowhere to relax?"

Later, as sisters-in-law arrived, they agreed. Father and brothers couldn’t withstand the ‘army of ladies.’ In the end, the ground shrank, arguments ensued, and finally they drew a line down the middle—the fairest way—each side got half.

Xie Ci’s voice grew lighter, but then faded. Gu Wan quickly picked up the tale: "So that’s how it was! When the brothers finished training, they’d jump straight into the garden lake to bathe."

Back then, the original Gu Wan was a sensitive guest, rarely visiting the garden, never setting foot on the drill ground. She turned to Xie Ci, grinned, "I’ve never been here. How about a contest?"

Xie Ci was momentarily stunned. "A contest?"

Gu Wan smiled, "Riding, dueling, archery, striking the saddle dummy—whoever loses must grant the other a request. Deal?"

"Deal! As you say."

With a whistle, two sleek, glossy warhorses—one brown, one black—broke free, galloping down the corridor, leaping the stone threshold into the drill ground.

Gu Wan laughed aloud. The horse suited her perfectly. She stroked its glossy mane, tugged the reins, and vaulted up.

Xie Ci, even before his black horse reached the gate, had already leapt onto its back. As soon as he mounted, his whole demeanor changed.

They exchanged a glance, pressed their heels, and—"Jia!"—shot out across the blue stone, racing to the far end of the earthen arena.

The autumn wind howled past, sweeping away all gloom from Xie Ci’s heart. He looked sideways at Gu Wan’s wind-kissed, smiling face.

"Xie Ci! You’re amazing!" she shouted into the wind. "You did it—you got our home back!"

"From now on, everything will only get better—"

She shouted as the cold autumn wind filled her mouth, riding the galloping horse as if she might take flight.

She was telling Xie Ci, but also herself.

From now on, she belonged here. She would put down roots, fall in love, marry, bear children—become part of this place.

This was a wonderful place!

She shouted into the wind.

She would leave the past behind and embrace a new life.

"Xie Ci! Come fight—!"

They raced to the far end of the arena; Xie Ci was half a horse ahead. Then he wheeled his mount to the center. Gu Wan drew her twin swords, astride her horse, and shouted a challenge.

"All right!" Xie Ci, blood surging, couldn’t help but shout, "Bring me my spear!"

Xie Zi and Xie Ping dashed to fetch his gleaming red-tasseled silver spear.

He caught it in one hand, spun it, pointing the tip to the ground. "Come."

Just like a drill-ground bout, they circled, watching intently. Suddenly, both horses charged. With a metallic clang, sword and spear met. Xie Ci parried her blade, leaning aside to avoid the other, then thrust straight for Gu Wan's face.

She blocked, arms shaking from the force, nearly losing her grip. Her skills had improved, but facing Xie Ci head-on, she was far behind. And he wasn’t even using his full strength.

She cried out, "Xie Ci, you’re too strong!" He laughed.

In that moment, his rose-like eyes came alive, his spirit vibrant. "You’ve improved a lot. Again!"

Mounted combat didn’t suit her, but she had progressed.

Gu Wan shifted tactics, using her agility to keep her distance and strike quickly. As they fought, Xie Ci truly got into the match—his spear sweeping wide, sweat pouring, his blood and spirit blazing.

All his melancholy was left behind!

"Next year, once things are settled, I’ll bring Mingming home," he thought, shooting ten arrows after their match—all hitting the bullseye, quivering in the target.

He jumped down, hand on the thick rope target. "Then I can tell him, his father made this target."

No longer did Xie Ci avoid mention of his father and brothers. He looked back, calm and bright.

Gu Wan jumped down, whip in hand, clapped, and laughed, "That’s better. After all you’ve been through, cheer up—don’t mope!"

Sweating, they washed their faces at the garden lake. The sun set, dusk fell, chrysanthemums bloomed wild in the garden, ripples danced on the water, and the distant pavilion and zigzag bridge glowed gold and crimson in the last light.

After washing, Gu Wan stood up. In the sunset, for once, she seemed a bit shy. She cleared her throat, raised her face, eyes shining black and white under the evening rays.

"Xie Ci," she said, pulling something from her sleeve, clearing her throat again, "You won, so here—this is for you." He’d won every contest—riding, dueling, archery.

She tossed something to him. "Open it after you bathe. I’m off!"

She waved and dashed away—she simply couldn’t stay, too embarrassed.

Xie Ci looked down—a wax pellet, thumb-sized, containing something unknown. But his heart beat wildly, as if sensing something.

"Hey, Wanwan!..." He took two steps, paused, then suddenly rushed back to his own courtyard.

The last flush of sunset faded from the screen wall; lanterns and lamps were already glowing beneath the eaves.

Xie Ci hurried to his courtyard—warm yellow light filled it. He took a quick bath, then scrubbed again with soap, washing head to toe, hair damp and tied back. He donned black clothes, neat and fitted, and sat at his desk to open the wax pellet.

He held his breath, broke the seal, and inside found a folded note. He gently unfolded it under the lamp.

On the white paper, five words: "Let’s start, shall we?"

Black ink on white, the handwriting elegant and free, dazzling in the lamplight. In that instant, Xie Ci seemed to hear her bright voice, laughing: "Let’s start!"

Start what?

Of course—start being in love!

A wave of wild joy shot through him—Xie Ci nearly jumped up.

He had sensed this, really—because when he returned, Gu Wan had flown into his arms. They had hugged before in excitement, but never like that. If she hadn’t meant it, hadn’t decided to accept him, there wouldn’t have been that subtle difference in her embrace.

He’d felt it then, but was too distracted to dwell on it.

His throat tightened, eyes grew hot. He pressed the note to his heart, smiling uncontrollably.

His spirits soared—any lingering gloom was gone, and now real happiness filled him. This familiar house, every eave and tile known to him, was his again, with no more shadows.

Yet he thought, "How unpoetic this is!"

Shouldn’t it be, "Together forever, remembered always; cool autumn winds bring us home; one mountain, two mountains, crimson maples of longing"?

He looked at the note again, a little critical, though tears misted his eyes.

No, he thought, it's him who loves deeply.

Maybe she doesn’t feel as much yet.

But it doesn’t matter—there will be more in time! Xie Ci’s heart soared. Savoring this happiness, he could no longer sit still—he rushed out.

Through corridors and pebble paths, he ran like a delighted child to Gu Wan’s old courtyard. Xie Ping and the others, clever as ever, had long since vanished.

Beneath the eaves, moss and wildflowers grew among the stones, but the yard’s former elegance remained.

By the chrysanthemum-edged stone flower bed and red-pillared gallery, the boudoir door was shut, a window aglow with warm yellow light.

When Xie Ci arrived, Gu Wan had changed into a pale apricot skirt, the gauze fabric stirring in the night breeze.

She held a bamboo flute, twirling it between her fingers, then raised it to her lips to play a soft "Good Night Tune."

When she noticed Xie Ci, she set the flute down.

The night was silent; moonlight poured like a silver river, autumn insects rasped. She sat on the gallery steps; he stood below in the yard. The wind carried the faint scent of chrysanthemums.

Gu Wan, a little embarrassed, brushed her bangs. "I knew you'd come."

She hadn't dared say it aloud, so she wrote the note—never expecting him to run back so soon. But she wasn’t really surprised.

Xie Ci came to the steps, paused, and said quietly, "Wanwan, today, I’m really happy!"

His joy was obvious, overflowing in his voice and features.

Gu Wan felt complicated—she’d thought about it for two days, and after sending the note, felt lighter, as if something had been let go. She was unaccustomed to the emptiness, but also relieved. In the end, she said, "I'm happy, too."

Finally making this decision, with all the preparation before, left her mostly at peace.

She glanced at Xie Ci, who immediately stepped forward, his excitement and energy so infectious she couldn’t help but smile.

Enough! She thought. No more overthinking. This was her new life—starting with Xie Ci.

She looked up at the sky, encouraging herself at this turning point. She glared at Xie Ci, "Don’t get too excited! You have to work hard! If you get knocked down, you’ll have nothing left."

Xie Ci, as if taking a military oath, replied, "Don’t worry, Wanwan—I’ll work twice as hard! No one will knock me down!"

"I’m almost about to start a family!" His grin nearly reached his ears; talk of marriage was premature, but he was so happy he could barely speak.

Gu Wan glimpsed Xie Yun and Xie Ping lurking by the gate. With exasperation and fondness, she said, "Go, go—how many days have you not slept?"

She thought she’d better shoo him away; otherwise, she’d never live down the embarrassment—especially with gossip-hound Chen Lang next door.

"Hurry back. I’m going to sleep."

She glared, "Otherwise, I’ll take back what I said."

"Never!" Xie Ci panicked, shut his mouth, and said, "Then I’ll go to bed." He wouldn’t give her a chance to change her mind. Hiding the wax pellet behind his back, he said goodnight and dashed off, laughing half-way.

Gu Wan watched him go, and finally couldn’t help but smile. Tonight, Xie Ci’s joy was infectious.

All right! She hoped they could stay this happy forever.

Author’s note:

Xie Ci: I have a wife now! Don’t worry, dear—I’ll work twice as hard, strive in my career! (Excited, full of energy)

Gu Wan: ...Brother, aren’t you moving a bit fast? I just agreed to start dating!