Beizhou

Beizhou sometimes wondered if his life would have been drastically different if someone other than Yi Nan had discovered him secretly combing his hair like a woman’s. If it had been anyone else, he might have been expelled from the Yi residence immediately, and whether he would have survived was uncertain.

But Yi Nan was not just anyone.

The young lady of the Yi family, seeing the trembling little guard, was stunned for a moment before breaking into a smile. “Brother Bei looks good like this.”

At her playful age, she treated him like a new doll, enthusiastically pulling him to sit in front of a mirror, stealing her mother’s rouge and powder to apply to his face.

Beizhou lowered his head, suppressing the urge to flee.

Even he couldn’t fully explain the vague and uncontrollable feelings that were sprouting in his heart. He only vaguely sensed he was different from others, which immediately plunged him into a state of constant fear, so much so that he avoided looking in the mirror.

Yi Nan finished applying the makeup, and her words broke through his confusion: “From now on, you won’t be Brother Bei, but Sister Bei.”

Ah, it’s over.

Children can’t keep secrets. This would reach the master’s ears by tonight, and tomorrow would be his end.

Beizhou anxiously waited for one day, two days, three days…

Months later, when he was pulled in front of the mirror again to serve as a professional doll, he couldn’t hold back anymore and asked, “Miss, have you told anyone about this?”

Yi Nan looked at him, puzzled. “Of course not. My mother noticed her rouge was missing and thought I was just trying to look pretty!”

This secret was kept for a long time. The young lady grew up year by year, eventually giving up her childhood makeup games.

An older Beizhou fell into a new long wait. When she realized her guard was a strange person, she would drive him away.

He waited for one year, two years, three years…

He stopped waiting.

One ordinary afternoon, the young lady sat by the window reading a leisure book, while Beizhou silently guarded behind her. Perhaps the story involved a talented scholar and a beautiful woman, for she suddenly sighed, “I wonder what my future husband will be like.”

Beizhou thought for a moment and said, “Miss will find a good husband, grow old together, and have a pair of smart and lovely children.”

Yi Nan turned back and smiled at him, with a hint of light sorrow in her eyes.

“Not me. What about you, Bei?”

“Me?” Beizhou shook his head immediately. “I’m destined to be unfortunate. I don’t think I’ll find someone. In the future, Miss’s children will be my children. I’ll be a guard, protecting you all for life.”

Yi Nan laughed, “I hope you find your own children one day.”

—

Xiao Tiancai

Xiao Tiancai, a medical prodigy seen once in a century, had quietly surpassed all his superiors within three years of joining the Imperial Medical Institute. He spent most of his energy pretending to be ignorant and avoiding work—everyone knew that being an imperial physician was a high-risk job; climbing too high could cost you your head.

Usually, if his master assigned a three-day task, he’d finish it in half a day, enjoying two and a half days of leisure.

Xiao Tiancai had a preferred lazy spot near the Imperial Medical Institute, lush with greenery, where he could hide under the shade and escape all eyes.

One day, before he could reach that spot, he heard music from afar.

In his spare time, Xiao Tiancai had cultivated many refined hobbies, playing the zither and the pipa. However, the music that reached his ears was unlike anything he had ever heard, neither pleasant nor unpleasant, just very peculiar.

Unable to resist, Xiao Tiancai stealthily approached, hiding behind a tree to investigate. This investigation led him to see Xie Yonger.

Xie Yonger was practicing “Romance de Amor” on a self-made guitar. Perhaps because she didn’t remember the music sheet fully, she played clumsily, slipping up eight times in the same spot.

Xiao Tiancai cringed as he listened, finally sighing in relief when she left, hoping she had some self-awareness or at least a survival instinct not to perform before the emperor.

But the next day, she returned.

Xie Yonger practiced there for a whole month, leaving Xiao Tiancai with nowhere to go but to eavesdrop for a month.

After a month, Xie Yonger finally played a complete piece, jumped up, and punched the tree trunk, shouting, “Am I awesome or what?!”

On the other side of the tree, Xiao Tiancai muttered, “…”

Many things happened after that.

They gradually became familiar, but Xiao Tiancai watched helplessly as the fire in Xie Yonger’s eyes dimmed day by day.

At first, he didn’t understand what was happening or why he felt inexplicably anxious. After all, he didn’t dare covet the tyrant’s harem even if given ten lives.

One day, Xie Yonger came to him secretly, asking for an abortion prescription.

Xiao Tiancai was startled and, after a moment’s hesitation, asked in a low voice, “Is it because of the Empress Dowager?”

Xie Yonger hung her head in silence.

Xiao Tiancai said, “I can help you with the pregnancy and promise not to tell anyone. When the baby is due, you can seek the emperor’s protection. After all, it’s his own flesh and blood…”

Xie Yonger shook her head almost imperceptibly, silently begging with tears.

Unaware of the full story, Xiao Tiancai patiently explained the dangers of her request.

Finally, Xie Yonger gritted her teeth. “This child is not the emperor’s.”

Her tears fell, whether from sorrow over her situation or fear of losing this lifeline. To gain his trust, she revealed everything, from her first meeting with Prince Duan to their mutual affection and secret pregnancy.

Xiao Tiancai listened silently, a sudden clarity dawning.

If she hadn’t loved another, he might never have realized his own desires. But she recklessly, desperately loved someone else—it just wasn’t him.

So this is what jealousy feels like.

Many things happened afterward.

Xiao Tiancai next saw Xie Yonger after her secret was exposed.

She had lost her child, been imprisoned by the emperor, abandoned by Prince Duan, and all her pride was trampled into the mud.

Yet her expression was more relaxed than ever, as if she had shed a heavy burden, weak but calm, like someone recovering from a long illness.

She asked him to save the emperor and told him bluntly that she had no illusions about true love. Her only goal now was to survive and find a way to escape and flee far away.

For a moment, Xiao Tiancai wanted to ask, “What about me?”

I’m right in front of you, have you ever noticed?

He always felt she understood his feelings, but after being hurt by Prince Duan, she no longer wanted to speak of love, which seemed unfair.

But he didn’t say it. He remembered that Xie Yonger hadn’t played the guitar in the palace for a long time.

Before leaving the palace, they met one last time.

That day, the sun was bright, and Xie Yonger was in high spirits. She seemed to have come to terms with everything, sharing her grand plans with him like an old friend: building a commercial empire and even bringing the empress into it. She envisioned owning all the major streets across the country.

Xiao Tiancai listened, half understanding, but noticed that the fire in her eyes had reignited.

Just like long ago, practicing under the tree, always resilient, always full of fighting spirit.

Xiao Tiancai slowly smiled. “When the time comes, don’t forget to take a break occasionally and play your strange guitar.”

Xie Yonger laughed, “Sure.”

Xie Yonger: “…”

Xie Yonger asked, “Where did you hear that?”

Xiao Tiancai originally thought there was no place for him in her grand dreams until long after, he received a letter forwarded by Yu Wanyin.

“When everything is settled, if I hear of your arrival, I will re-tune the old strings and continue the beautiful melody.”

Xiao Tiancai’s face flushed red. Fearing that Yu Wanyin would notice his feelings, he hurriedly put away the letter and quickly excused himself.

His heart was filled with joy, and even his steps became lighter.

He needed to carefully compose a reply.

The Mute Girl

The mute girl was not always called the mute girl. But everyone who remembered her real name was already dead.

A minor official of Qiang Kingdom knocked on the door of the shabby room and frowned at the sight of the pale, thin mute girl. “Is there anyone else in your family?”

The mute girl said, “They all left, didn’t say when they would return.”

The official, helpless, threw a cloth bag at her. “Take it.”

The mute girl opened it to find a few strings of copper coins.

She asked, “Why are you giving me money?”

“This was left to you by your parents.”

The mute girl thought for a moment and asked, “Are they dead?”

“They became heroes. This is a reward.”

The mute girl knew what “hero” meant. She clenched the bag of coins. “They died just to get this?”

The official, impatient, said, “Becoming a hero is an honor many people can’t attain. Don’t be ungrateful.”

After he left, the mute girl turned the bag upside down, shaking out a tattered contract with her parents’ names on it.

“For the glory of our ancestors, we voluntarily become the queen’s sword. We go to the Xia Kingdom, regardless of life or death. The reward will be given to our family.”

Winter was coming. Hearing that the child next door had become an orphan, a neighbor’s old woman brought over an old cotton-padded jacket.

The mute girl was at a loss. With war raging in the Qiang Kingdom, everyone was struggling to survive, and every bit of extra kindness was a luxury.

The old woman patted her head. “What’s your name? Is there anyone else to support you?”

The mute girl remained silent for a long time, then asked instead, “Did my father and mother become heroes voluntarily?”

The old woman looked at the small, thin girl, hesitated and then firmly said, “Yes. Becoming a hero is a great thing, and everyone will remember them forever.”

The mute girl clenched the contract.

Half a month later, when the old woman knocked on the door again, the shabby room was empty.

Years later, Yu Wanyin had a mute maidservant by her side.

Every time Yu Wanyin saw her, she felt that the girl was so thin she might miss the chance to grow if she didn’t get more nutrition. So she arranged for a cup of milk every day and often gave her some snacks.

The mute girl never refused, always accepting them with a smile.

Later, after the mute girl died, the secret guards thoroughly searched her belongings and found a hidden compartment under her bed.

Inside were the contract, the old cotton-padded jacket, and some moldy cakes wrapped in a handkerchief.

Those were the most treasured things in her life.

Cen Jintian

Cen Jintian was the first in the court to realize that Erlan was a woman.

The reason was simple: Erlan wasn’t very careful about hiding it from him.

At first, Cen Jintian didn’t know what it meant. In fact, everyone who had secrets they wanted to share would come to him, knowing he would soon take them to his grave.

He knew Yang Duoji was dissatisfied with the emperor for a long time, worried about not meeting a wise ruler.

He also knew Li Yunxi’s feelings for Erlan were changing and becoming complicated.

So keeping another secret about Erlan wasn’t a big deal.

However, as his illness worsened, Erlan was always busy taking care of him, never leaving his side—this went beyond ordinary friendship.

Moreover, Erlan’s heart was entirely with him. When he showed signs of improvement, her mood for the whole day would be good. When his condition worsened, she would sit by his bed, quietly watching him.

Over time, he understood.

Cen Jintian knew he couldn’t respond.

Condemned to an early death from a young age, he focused all his energy on research. He didn’t even care who the emperor was.

After leaving home as a young man, he kept his distance from his family, fearing only to leave them with sorrow when he was gone.

An ill-fated person does not deserve to form bonds.

But that day, Erlan, perhaps just finishing official duties, came to see him in a narrow-sleeved riding outfit, looking vibrant and youthful, like a budding willow.

Cen Jintian controlled himself perfectly, lowering his eyes without giving her a second glance.

Only when she turned away did he let his gaze linger.

Cen Jintian always thought he hid it well.

Their relationship remained that of gentlemanly friendship, as distant as water, never crossing boundaries, not even with a hint of ambiguity.

The thread of their connection never tightened, so in her old age, when she looked back, at most she would feel a slight wistfulness.

That was for the best.

However, on the day of his death, Erlan wore a blue dress to see him off.

Cen Jintian, already in a daze, instinctively felt a moment of panic.

She did it on purpose, wearing his favorite color. Was it to make things clear, to retaliate, or to question?

Surrounded by colleagues and friends, Cen Jintian met Erlan’s gaze. Their eyes were clear, but they said nothing.

What could be said? Ask when she found out? Both being extremely intelligent, he had long known, so how could he expect Erlan to be in the dark?

At this point, should he apologize? Comfort her? Reveal his feelings? A few words could hardly bridge the vast gap between life and death.

His breath weakened, vision dimmed, yet he hesitated over his last words.

In his blurry vision, Erlan, back to the crowd, mouthed, “Next life?”

Her eyes held no tears, only hope.

Cen Jintian smiled and nodded with difficulty.

He had no regrets in his life.