The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

The moonlight, like frost, covered the plum blossoms on a thousand trees and also brightened the swaying skirt as she turned her head.

Tangxi Xue had already taken several steps when she suddenly stopped.

The ice-blue shawl rippled gently in the night breeze, like a ripple that seemed to want to speak but held back.

She turned her head, moonlight filling her sleeves and also filling her clear, peach-blossom eyes:

"By the way, Your Majesty."

She paused, gazing at the nascent sword on the forging table.

"I forgot to ask, what is the name of this sword?"

Tangxi stood in the clear light of the full moon.

Dressed in dark robes bathed in moonlight, her brows and eyes were as serene as a thousand-year-old deep pool reflecting a cold, unyielding wall.

"Immortality".

Two words were uttered.

His voice was like the spine of a sword gently stroking the silk, deep and warm.

Like wine sealed for many years, once the mud seal is broken, it intoxicates even before it's tasted.

The snow in Tangxi fell silent for a moment.

That breath was so short that it only lasted for half a beat before the heartbeat stopped.

So short that the moonlight didn't have time to shift, and the wind didn't have time to gather her scattered hair.

But in that instant, she suddenly felt as if the first plum blossom of early spring had brushed against her heart.

It wasn't a plum blossom petal, but rather the delicate tip of a flower bud just before it blooms, touching me very lightly.

No pain.

It was just a sudden softening.

It felt as if something had quietly melted inside my chest.

Bitterness and sweet warmth grow silently like vines, and in a short while, they have become lush and verdant, covering the walls of my heart.

She blinked.

Her eyelashes seemed to be touched by the extravagant shimmer of the night, sparkling like stars that refused to fall.

"It was my elder brother who chose the name."

She smiled, her peach blossom eyes curving into two crescent moons.

When the corners of her lips turned up, the sweetness that settled in her dimples was like a whole jar of plum blossom honey that had been secretly hidden away, overflowing from the corners of her eyes and brows before it could even melt.

The Hall of Eternal Life symbolizes the hope that she will remain forever.

—The Longevity Sword is to protect her for a long journey.

She simply took those two words, along with the moonlight and breeze of the night, the embers of the hearth and the faint glimmer of the starry sky, and put them all into her heart.

In this vast world, there is one person—

I long for her day and night, year after year.

May you live a long and peaceful life.

May we spend this life together.

Tangxi remained silent throughout the night.

He simply took the black cloak from the shelf, unfolded it, and gently draped it over her shoulders.

A thick, dark satin-like velvet fabric descended, wrapping her from head to toe like a small, warm cloud.

He lowered his eyes, his slender fingers threading through the silver ribbon, wrapping around her neck, tying a knot, and then gently smoothing out the slight fold at the neckline.

The movements were extremely slow and steady, as if performing a very important ritual.

After tying it up, he took out a small, gilded silver hand warmer, gently unscrewed the lid, and added two new charcoal pieces.

Once the fire had stabilized, he closed the lid and placed it in her palm, which was covered by her cloak.

The hand warmer still carried the lingering warmth of his palm.

"It's cold," he said softly, his voice landing on her head as lightly as if afraid to startle the icicles hanging from the eaves. "Be careful not to catch a cold."

He did not back away immediately.

His lowered eyebrows and eyes were shrouded in the lamplight, calm as an ancient well, yet clearly revealing ripples beneath the surface.

He simply looked at her through that thick cloak, through the firelight and moonlight filling the room.

I saw her wrapped up so that only her fair face was showing, I saw her slightly curled fingertips as she held the hand warmer, and I saw the shards of light falling when her eyelashes trembled.

"How old are you?" he sighed softly, a sigh so faint it seemed as if something had shattered and then reformed in the last syllable, "and you still don't know how to take care of yourself."

He paused.

The voice became even softer, so soft it was as if it were asking itself:

"How can I feel at ease letting you live outside the palace?"

The room was completely silent.

Only that sigh, like snow falling into a deep pool, was silent, yet it sank to the bottom.

"Brother, you're just letting your concern cloud your judgment."

Tang Xixue's voice was still soft, but it had become more serious.

"Also, there's no need to assign all the Hidden Dragon Guards to me."

She looked up at him, his image reflected in her clear eyes:

"If you are well, then Zhizhi is well."

She paused, then turned her head to look at Shen Cuo:

"Wujiu doesn't need to always send someone to follow me—I can protect myself."

Under the moonlight, Shen Cuo's silver armor gleamed with a cold, frosty hue.

Tang Xixue's gaze lingered for a moment on the new mark on his shoulder armor.

The sword marks are still fresh, the edges are rough, and there hasn't been time to polish them carefully.

When the Chengtian Hall was attacked, he was once again the only one standing at the forefront.

"Your Majesty, I will obey your orders."

Shen Cuo raised his head, his voice slow and deliberate, each word spoken slowly and deliberately, as if he were pressing his entire heart and soul into those seven words.

When thrown to the ground, it should make a sound like metal or stone.

Tang Xixue looked at him.

Looking into his bright, piercing eyes.

Suddenly, I remembered something from a long time ago.

That spring, the pear blossoms in Lintai were in full bloom.

The pear blossoms fall like snowflakes, their white petals like clouds, and when the wind blows, a quiet, fragrant rain falls.

As she passed through the hanging flower gate, her skirt fluttering, she caught a glimpse of the figure at the end of the corridor, isolated from the crowd.

The boy stood alone in the shadow of the colonnade pillars.

No one spoke to him, no one even glanced at him.

He was like an old object forgotten in a corner, or a faint shadow that could be blown away by the wind at any moment.

She recognized him.

The second son of Prime Minister Shen was named "Cuo".

It's as if he was the very fault from the moment he was born.

She saw someone deliberately bump into his shoulder as they passed by, causing the scroll in his hand to fall to the ground.

He crouched down to pick them up, moving slowly, smoothing out the dusty corners of the paper page by page.

There was no argument, no anger, not even a glance.

Like a piece of iron.

she thinks.

Like a piece of iron that has been repeatedly forged, hammered, and quenched.

It remained unbroken and unbent, the crack still sharp, yet it never uttered a sound of pain.

Such a piece of iron should not have fallen into the hands of these people.

He should be a very good knife.

Under the pear tree, the flower shadows are half-hidden.

She looked away and gently tugged at the hem of her dark-colored dress.

"Brother Emperor."

Her soft, sweet voice fell like a glutinous rice ball rolling through fresh snow.

Tang Xiye looked down at her.

The girl looked up, her eyes reflecting the pear blossoms in full bloom:

"Wrong, use a whetstone."

"Without blame, one can become a useful vessel."

She curved her lips into a smile, a smile as light as a petal falling on spring water, yet possessing an undeniable weight.

"Brother, look—doesn't he resemble an unpolished blade?"

There are stones on other mountains that can be used to correct mistakes.

He meticulously examined every rugged aspect of his life.

Even a rough whetstone, after years of polishing, can reflect moonlight.

Tang Xiye gazed at her.

After a long while, he asked in a low voice:

"Zhizhi, are you pitying him?"

The girl simply smiled faintly.

"My brother's Eastern Palace is so big—"

She tilted her head slightly, and the silver tassel hairpin at her temple swayed gently.

"Wouldn't it be alright to take one more knife?"

Tangxi did not answer immediately.

A gust of wind blew, and pear blossoms fell softly onto his shoulders.

He looked down at the hand that was still gently tugging at the hem of his clothes, its fingertips as white as jade.

"Um."

He paused, then continued:

"As Zhizhi said."

He raised his hand and broke off the best-blooming pear blossom from the nearest branch.

The pear petals are piled high like snow, dotted with a few drops of undried dew.

He leaned down and gently placed the flower in her hair.

He withdrew his hand, his voice very soft, as if afraid of startling the pear blossom petal on the tip of her hair that was about to fall:

"May you receive a sprig of spring—from now on, every year will be a fine day."

His features were as gentle as the first snow of a long winter melting away.

He didn't care whether the knife in his hand was sharp or not.

He only had eyes for her.

The pear blossoms of that spring at Lintai have long since fallen to dust.

The shadow that was left behind at the end of the corridor back then is now dressed in silver armor, standing silently three feet behind the emperor.

The sword scars on the shoulder armor are like a silent medal.

He is now a sharp enough knife.

The sword is already sheathed.

Two characters were engraved on the sheath.

That was a gift, more precious than his name, that someone had obtained for him many years ago—Wu Jiu (meaning "no blame").

I watched Tangxi Xue leave.

Behind him, the emperor, dressed in dark robes, stood with a calm expression.

He was still just looking at her.

Like many years ago, on that spring day when pear blossoms were falling.

Like all the unspoken years of my life.

"My beloved weaver, has all the glory of her time."

His voice was low and slow, as if he were grinding an old inkstone.

The snow is white, the moon is cold, and the pearl in his palm was born to shine alone over the nine provinces.

"There are always arrogant fools who don't know their own limitations, coveting my branches and trying to pluck them."

"My men? They dare to challenge me?"