Chapter Forty: Heartbreaking Reunion [Part One]

The imperial palace has always been the symbol of a nation’s strength. Within this grandiose, extravagant, and ostentatious structure, thousands upon thousands reside, their only purpose to serve the one true Son of Heaven, heir by right of birth.

Ming Tian’s body was swathed in bandages, his movements sluggish, and though his wounds ached sharply, Yin Chan had prepared both topical and internal herbal painkillers to dull the agony. Still, the pain was far from gone.

Fortunately, Wang Jingze had proven himself reliable, foreseeing that Ming Tian would wish to see the Princess of Jiangmen upon waking. He had prepared a detailed map and the changing times of all the sentries along the route in advance.

The princess resided in the Palace of Purple Serenity, which, according to Yin Chan, was another structure unrecorded in any historical text—her personal chambers within the imperial grounds.

Now, with Xiao Xinzhu already designated as the crown prince’s consort, the entire area around Purple Serenity Palace was under martial law. No outsiders were allowed entry; any unauthorized attempt would be met with lethal force.

But such a minor obstacle could not hinder Ming Tian. Hardly pausing after his conversation with Yin Chan, he set out at once for the princess’s residence.

Taking An Luo with him as a precaution, Ming Tian followed the map and timetable, advancing cautiously toward Purple Serenity Palace. The route indicated that there was a doghole in the northeast wall, a perfect blind spot at the time of the second watch, when sentries changed shifts.

One had to admit, ancient times were truly backward.

In period dramas, palaces at night are always brilliantly illuminated. In reality, light sources were limited to lanterns and fire. Where there was light, it shone blindingly bright; but in the shadows, you could not see your own hand before your face. To make matters worse, tonight was overcast, not a star or moon in sight.

Turning left and right through every nook and cranny, Ming Tian felt as if each glance at the map to check his course was a test of his eyesight.

Oh, Edison, I love you. Thank you for inventing the light bulb. And could this damn palace be any larger? If an old lady wanted to lead a square dance here, she’d need all the grannies and grandpas in the province to fill it.

And why are there so many buildings? Why does the manure cart house look exactly the same as a living quarter from outside? I nearly fell into a pile of shit just now, trying to dodge a soldier! My nose is injured—I can’t even smell anything now! This is ridiculous!

At last, at the scheduled time, Ming Tian reached Purple Serenity Palace.

The entire perimeter wall was coated in red dye, and though the view was blocked, he could still see the palace’s upper stories glowing with gold and jade. Sculpted golden phoenixes adorned the roof, their eyes inlaid with emeralds that caught even the faintest glimmer, dazzling and resplendent.

Following the map, Ming Tian indeed found the doghole—a small gap at a corner, perfectly shielded from the sentries and any light source.

Did no one ever repair these dogholes? Was there no one in the palace in charge of such matters?

At the exact moment of the shift change, the gong sounded. The weary soldiers yawned, eager to abandon their posts. This shift change was executed far more efficiently than in television dramas; at most, there was a gap of thirty seconds.

“An Luo, come!” Ming Tian whispered, mustering all his strength to dash for the doghole, and, with a practiced ancestral dive, slid cleanly through.

Even so, the movement sent a searing jolt through his fractured ribs, the pain tearing at him.

But even such agony could not snuff out the passion in his heart, kindled by love.

The Princess of Jiangmen.

From the very first day he saw her, Ming Tian had known—she was the one.

Afflicted with albinism, she was heartbreakingly beautiful, fragile as an ephemeral blossom, yet as a princess she donned armor and rode with the troops, never showing a hint of weakness.

A strong woman, yet one in need of protection!

Ming Tian, who had seen countless faces, was certain the moment he laid eyes on her.

Truly, her palace was fit for a princess—words could not do justice to its beauty. Beyond the palace’s grandeur, the very layout astounded: from the entrance to the main doors stretched a corridor wide enough for three abreast, with lotus ponds flanking either side, and a bronze crescent moon statue rising from the right-hand pond.

“Ming Tian, help me!”

Just as Ming Tian was marveling at the sight, An Luo’s cry for help came from behind.

He thought they’d been discovered and his heart leapt, but turning back, his face fell long and hard.

An Luo was stuck in the doghole.

“Ming Tian, my backside’s too big, I’m stuck. Give me a pull!”

Good grief—who told you to build muscle even on your rear?

With no choice, Ming Tian went to help. But the wall was made of earth and ash, not sturdy brick. With Ming Tian’s pull and An Luo’s own brute strength, there was a loud crash as the doghole widened by a third.

“Who goes there?!”

Just then, a sharp and familiar voice rang out. The side door burst open with a kick, and a white figure shot forth, the shimmer of a curved blade glinting coldly as she charged with lightning speed.

The distance between the side door and Ming Tian—less than ten meters—vanished in an instant.

An Luo, still on the ground, cried out in alarm, scrambling to help Ming Tian, but it was too late—the blade was already at his throat!

But faced with this sudden killing intent, Ming Tian only smiled.

“At last…I see you again…”

The blade’s cold gleam, catching some unknown light, swept across Ming Tian’s face.

In a heartbeat, the lightning-fast blade halted, stopping less than two centimeters from his neck.

The wind of the blade, swifter than the steel itself, sliced a few strands of his hair.

The white figure trembled; crystalline tears welled in her blood-red eyes, and her snowy hair fluttered down.

“It’s… it’s you…” That familiar voice was as lovely as a nightingale’s song.

“Yes, it’s me.” Ming Tian smiled, feeling a stinging in his nose, though it had been numb since the explosion two days ago.

The woman in white before him was none other than the Princess of Jiangmen, Xiao Xinzhu, whom he had met in Sumen Town.

“Ming Tian? An Luo? Why are you two here?” Shock and joy warred in Xiao Xinzhu’s eyes; her grip slackened, and the curved blade slipped from her hand, clattering on the ground.

An Luo quickly knelt, “Princess, we had no choice but to visit you at this late hour without notice. Please forgive us.”

“No need for such ceremony.” Xiao Xinzhu, trembling with emotion, helped An Luo up, her beautiful ruby-like eyes unable to tear themselves away from Ming Tian.

Ming Tian’s heart skipped a beat.

At last, I see you again.

If it were possible, Ming Tian would have wished his very soul could leap forth through his eyes in this moment, the only thing left in his gaze a burning fire.

Words were unnecessary.

He gave the princess no chance to refuse, or perhaps his longing could not be contained—Ming Tian could not restrain himself, and did that which, in his previous life, he would never have dared.

He strode forward, two steps, without warning, slipping an arm around her waist and the other behind her back, drawing the princess into his embrace.

“Xinzhu, I’m here! I missed you so much!”

Xiao Xinzhu’s eyes widened in disbelief at being held.

For the first time in her life, Xiao Xinzhu was embraced by someone. She felt an unprecedented warmth and strength; all the power in her slender body seemed to melt away in his arms, leaving her limp against his chest.

An Luo stood gaping at the scene.

“Ming Tian, you mustn’t—this isn’t proper—you two aren’t married yet! Men and women shouldn’t touch!”

He paced anxiously around them, unsure whether to separate them or keep his hands to himself.

But in this moment, Ming Tian and Xiao Xinzhu saw no one but each other.

Feeling the warmth and trembling of her delicate form, Ming Tian buried his face in her snowy hair.

In this moment, silence spoke louder than words.

If that god were to appear again and grant Ming Tian a single wish, he would ask that this second last forever.

But after a few heartbeats, the vacant look faded from her eyes.

“No… this can’t be!” Xiao Xinzhu seemed to remember something and pushed Ming Tian away, retreating two steps.

Her jade-like face was now clouded with sorrow and despair, tears tinged crimson like her eyes, “Ming Tian, An Luo, you must leave… I never want to see you again…”