After being reborn, the aloof prime minister was once again forced by a tyrant.

Xie Qinglan paused slightly, just as she was immersed in the old memories of the withered crabapple tree blossoming in spring in her previous life, until the sound of iron horses on the eaves of the house rang in her ears, which abruptly pulled her back to reality.

The crabapple blossoms in Tingxue Pavilion were in full bloom. A gentle breeze stirred today, and a few pink and white petals fluttered down. He lowered his eyes, his slender fingertips gently picking up a petal, his fingertips caressing the tender edge of the flower. His eyes were calm, but the tenderness in his heart stirred by memories was hidden deep inside.

He looked up and picked up the black-sheathed longsword again—a sword that Xiao Jingyuan had forged himself when he was seventeen—and slowly drew it from its sheath.

The sword was gleaming, its cold light reflecting half of his handsome face. His fingertips slowly slid along the spine of the sword, touching the extremely fine notch—a mark of bloodshed.

"I've followed him for eleven years," Xie Qinglan murmured to herself, "He should have a name by now."

He lowered his eyes and sheathed his sword. He rose and walked back into the hall, sat down at his desk, spread out a sheet of plain paper, picked up his brush, dipped it in ink, and wrote two words on the paper.

He folded the plain paper and tucked it into a small bamboo tube. Then he walked to the courtyard gate and called out, "Gao An."

Gao An was dozing under the eaves when he heard the call. He jumped up and ran over in a few strides: "Your servant is here! What are your orders, Lord Xie?"

"Give this to His Majesty." Xie Qinglan handed him the bamboo tube. "Tell him I've chosen a name for the sword."

Gao An took the bamboo tube with both hands, paused for a moment, then broke into a wide smile: "Yes, yes, yes, this servant will go right away!"

Xie Qinglan glanced at him and added, "No need to say anything else."

"This servant understands!"

Holding the bamboo tube, Gao An jogged across the palace path, tripped over the threshold of the Imperial Study, and fell to his knees with a thud. His face, however, beamed with barely suppressed laughter: "Your Majesty! Lord Xie sent me with something—he said the name for the sword has been chosen!"

Xiao Jingyuan was annotating a memorial when his vermilion brush paused in mid-air. A drop of vermilion ink from the tip of the brush fell onto the paper, spreading into a small red dot.

He put down his pen and took the bamboo tube so quickly that his fingertips hit the tube wall, causing a slight pain, but he was completely unaware of it.

Pull out the stopper and unfold the plain paper. There are only two words on the paper, the handwriting is thin and the strokes are cold and sharp.

Gui Lan.

Xiao Jingyuan's hand holding the plain paper began to tremble. Gui Lan—the Gui of returning, the Lan of Xie Qinglan.

The man named his sword Guilan.

Xiao Jingyuan carefully folded the plain paper in half and tucked it into his clothes, close to his heart. The edge of the paper pressed against his chest, causing a slight itch, as if a small insect was crawling across his heart.

He turned away from Gao An, not wanting anyone to see his expression, and spoke in a low voice, "What else did he... say?"

Gao An knelt on the ground and said in a clear voice, "Lord Xie didn't say anything else. But this servant saw it with his own eyes—Lord Xie sat alone under the crabapple tree today, using a silk cloth dipped in sword oil to wipe the sword from head to toe several times, even polishing the black iron on the scabbard until it shone brightly. Lord Xie... really likes the sword His Majesty gave him."

Xiao Jingyuan remained silent. He stood by the window, his back to Gao An, his shoulders heaving slightly. After a long while, he finally spoke, his voice hoarse: "Gao An, you said he polished the sword I gave you."

"Yes! I wiped it several times."

Xiao Jingyuan's Adam's apple bobbed. It took him about half an incense stick's time to calm his excitement and sit back down at his desk.

"Your Majesty," Gao An said, mustering his courage as he observed the emperor's expression, "Lord Xie... he seems to be alright no longer angry with Your Majesty. Would Your Majesty like to go and check on him at Tingxue Pavilion?"

Xiao Jingyuan paused for a moment, then waved his hand and said, "You can go now. You don't need to go to Tingxuexuan today."

"Your Majesty..." Gao An wanted to persuade him again, but Xiao Jingyuan interrupted him in a low voice.

"Get out of here."

Seeing that he couldn't persuade him, Gao An had no choice but to leave.

After Gao An left, only Xiao Jingyuan remained in the Imperial Study. He took a deep breath, leaned back in his chair, and repeatedly stroked the plain paper inside his robe with his fingertips. The edges of the paper were softened by his body heat. He repeated "Gui Lan" over and over again, as if he were holding a piece of ice honey between his lips. The sweetness spread from the tip of his tongue to his heart, yet it also made his eyes swell with bitterness.

Gui Lan.

The returning boat carries the moon, and the waves enter my embrace.

He suddenly stood up, the hem of his dragon robe sweeping across the corner of the desk, causing a few drops of ink to spill from the inkstone and spread into a dark stain on the memorial. Oblivious to this, he staggered towards the palace gate, only to stop abruptly at the door, the tip of his black boots grinding a shallow mark on the gold bricks.

No.

He can't go.

Xie Qinglan had only given the sword a name; she hadn't truly forgiven him. If she barged in rashly and angered him, he might even take back this small gesture.

He went back to continue reviewing the memorials, but after finishing, he became agitated again and couldn't suppress his desire to see that person.

Xiao Jingyuan paced back and forth in front of the Imperial Study a dozen times. The palace lanterns under the corridor flickered in the evening breeze, casting his shadow long and short.

Finally, he gritted his teeth, bypassed the main road leading to Tingxuexuan, and turned into the moss-covered alleyway between the palace walls.

The courtyard wall of Tingxuexuan is not high, and the gray bricks are covered with withered rose vines, their branches intertwined like a net.

Xiao Jingyuan took a breath, and with a light touch of his toes, he flipped up. However, the hem of his dragon robe was caught by sharp spikes, making a soft "rip" sound.

He hurriedly pressed down on the fabric, crouched in the shadows above the wall, his heart pounding as if it would burst from his chest, and even his breathing became extremely shallow.

He crouched on the wall, using one hand to steady himself against a nearby tree branch, and the other hand to push aside the flowers in front of him—the next moment, his breath stopped.

The crabapple blossoms in the courtyard were in full bloom, their pink and white petals swept up by the wind and falling to the ground like a snowfall that would never melt.

Xie Qinglan stood under the crabapple tree, holding the black-sheathed longsword in her hand—the sword was now drawn, its clear blade reflecting the crimson petals falling from the sky. In the swirling light, it was impossible to tell whether the sword light was colder or the shadows of the flowers were softer.

He moved.

With a slight twist of his wrist, the longsword shot out like a dragon, whipping up a sharp gust of wind. Petals were swept up by the sword energy, fluttering around his robes, his moon-white brocade robe billowing in the rain of petals, like a crane about to ride the wind away.

Wherever the sword light touched, petals fell like rain, truly fulfilling the saying, "A hall full of flowers intoxicates three thousand guests, a sword's frost chills fourteen provinces."

Xiao Jingyuan was mesmerized.

He had seen Xie Qinglan draw his sword before. In his previous life, on the long street, that man had fought him with swords drawn in order to take Pei Yuning away; every move was a desperate and ruthless struggle.

But the sword he wielded at this moment was different. There was no killing intent, no wariness, no cold aloofness. He simply danced with the sword quietly, the sword light intertwining with the shadows of flowers, every movement flowing smoothly, carrying an ultimate sense of ease and solitude.

The Guilan Sword seemed to come alive in his hands, its blade trembling slightly and emitting a clear dragon's roar, as if it had finally found its true master.

The wind suddenly picked up. All the crabapple trees swayed in unison, and petals fell like a sudden rain.

Xie Qinglan's swordplay also changed in that instant—from the casual swings just now to a fierce attack. The sword blade cut through the air with a clear dragon's roar, and a cold light flashed by, slicing off more than a dozen petals that were falling in mid-air.

Xiao Jingyuan was so engrossed in watching that he unconsciously leaned forward, wanting to get a better look.

The moss underfoot was slippery from the night dew, and the soles of my boots slipped on it, causing me to lose my balance and fall towards the inside of the wall.

He instinctively tried to gather his strength and turn over, but his hand made a grasping motion in the air and only managed to break off a crabapple branch.

"Splash—"

The sound of the blue bricks rolling down was particularly jarring in the quiet courtyard.

Xiao Jingyuan cried out in surprise and slid down the wall, landing solidly in a patch of waist-high foxtail grass, startling a flurry of fluff and fallen petals.

Grass clippings covered him, a few crabapple petals fell into his hair, his black dragon robe was torn with a long tear by a tree branch, and his once meticulously combed hair was now disheveled, making him look utterly wretched.

The sound of swords clashing abruptly ceased.