The deepest secrets are veiled beneath countless layers of bones.

For generations, the Marquis of Changping had been stationed at the western border—such was the mission bestowed upon the Song family by each successive emperor of Dayi. The current Marquis, Song Gu, was the Empress’s younger brother and the Crown Prince’s maternal uncle. Though only thirty-one, he had commanded armies since his youth, spending sixteen years in battle and earning illustrious honors for Dayi.

Shen Yu and Fu Lanchen had grown up listening to tales of the Marquis’s heroics. Whenever news of victory reached from the west, these two cousins, aside from their reverence for their uncle, would exchange looks of mutual disdain.

Fu Lanchen, ever self-aware, would say, “I accept everyone’s contempt but not yours, Shen Yu. We two—let’s not laugh at each other.”

Shen Yu would click his tongue and sigh, “Brother Crown Prince, sometimes I feel sorry for our grandfather. He had two daughters who married into distinguished families, his son brought honor to the house, but his only grandsons—just us two—do nothing but idle away our days. Truly disgraceful.”

Yet, despite this, the Marquis’s renown never waned.

Nangong Mingchen and Guan Yulong, admiring the Marquis and harboring their own ambitions, led three thousand cavalry for two days before finally meeting the famed, austere, and commanding Song Gu at Jiayu Pass.

According to rank, Song Gu ought to have greeted the Crown Prince first, but he bypassed Fu Lanchen and addressed General Qu Zhe, exchanging formalities before finally turning to his nephew, who bore little resemblance to the Song lineage.

In Song Gu’s presence, Fu Lanchen shed his princely airs; he answered quietly whatever Song Gu asked, never cold nor disrespectful.

Perhaps it was the Marquis’s reputation that kept Guan Yulong, Chen Kun, and the other deputy generals standing at a respectful distance, reluctant to approach. Nangong Mingchen, standing beside Qu Zhe, was the first to be addressed by Song Gu.

“And who is this...?” Song Gu’s deep-set gaze radiated the aura of a great commander. His thick brows shadowed his eyes as he looked at Nangong Mingchen, pausing in thought. When had Qu Zhe acquired such a handsome deputy? Even compared to Fu Lanchen, his looks did not pale.

“Your humble servant, Nangong Mingchen, pays respects to the Marquis of Changping.” In Song Gu’s presence, not only Fu Lanchen became compliant; even young Lord Nangong behaved with uncommon deference.

Song Gu’s eyes widened in surprise. “A member of the Nangong family?” He thought to himself—best not to say more, my lord!

Behind Song Gu, his deputy Song Jing wiped a cold sweat for his master.

Nangong Mingchen smiled obsequiously. “Yes, from the Nangong family.”

Qu Zhe made a formal gesture. “Reporting to the Marquis, this is the third son of the Nangong family. He inherited his father’s title two years ago, personally granted by His Majesty as the Marquis of Gongmin.” Leave it to General Qu to smooth things over.

“The third son of the Nangong family—wasn’t he supposed to be mentally deficient? But this one...” The youth before him was the very model of a clever mind. Song Gu was perplexed.

Indeed, before Nangong Mingchen reclaimed his lineage, the original third son was mentally unsound.

Thus, everyone explained Nangong Mingchen’s restored ancestry to the Marquis—briefly, at first, but Song Gu’s questions were probing.

His concern for Nangong Mingchen’s origins seemed greater than for the campaign at Cuolan Snow Mountain.

“No wonder. The Song and Nangong families have been rivals for generations,” Song Gu later remarked to Fu Lanchen.

With Song Gu’s arrival, the army settled into greater stability. In the days that followed, Fu Lanchen accompanied Song Gu on a reconnaissance of Cuolan Mountain, deliberately inviting Nangong Mingchen to join.

Song Gu and Fu Lanchen were both reticent by nature. Only Nangong Mingchen broke the silence: “I heard Your Highness has visited Liaodong before. Have you been to Cuolan Mountain?”

Riding through the snow, the horses stumbled on uneven ground. Fu Lanchen’s horse slipped on a stone, but it didn’t slow his speech: “I meant to come, but my father recalled me with an imperial edict.” His tone was tinged with displeasure.

Nangong Mingchen gripped his reins, curious. “I came to Liaodong on business before, but only reached Canzhou County. They say Cuolan Mountain is covered with snow year-round, its scenery stunning. I wonder if we’ll see the Snow Mountain Goddess.”

Fu Lanchen scoffed, glancing sideways. “A wise man does not speak of the supernatural. It’s nothing but nonsense.”

Nangong Mingchen countered, “But Your Highness hasn’t seen it yourself. How can you be sure?”

Fu Lanchen, easily riled, retorted, “Nangong Mingchen, are you deliberately opposing me?”

Nangong Mingchen feigned innocence. “Your humble servant only speaks the truth.”

Fu Lanchen’s face turned red with indignation, reminding him of someone in the Eastern Palace—also with an innocent face, always claiming to speak honestly, yet daring in action.

He muttered, “Such rotten temperaments!”

“‘Such’? Who else?” The earlier words Song Gu hadn’t heard, but he caught this last exchange and joined in.

Nangong Mingchen turned to Fu Lanchen, “Besides me, who else?”

Exposed, Fu Lanchen’s blush spread to his ears, but he stubbornly replied, “Well... all those Nangong family people.”

Nangong Mingchen protested loudly, “No, I don’t think I’m anything like them! What’s Your Highness seeing?”

“Bloodline, family traits,” Fu Lanchen grumbled.

“Is that so?” Nangong Mingchen began to doubt himself.

Cuolan Mountain lay over a dozen kilometers from the Dayi army’s camp. The snowy peaks were treacherous, and even with their finest warhorses, it took them two hours to reach the mountain gate.

To cross the Cuolan Mountains, the army needed full knowledge of its terrain.

Perhaps due to the harsh cold, Fu Lanchen soon developed a high fever. While surveying the western routes with his team, his legs suddenly gave way and he collapsed, sending the soldiers into a panic as they called for the military physicians.

He was immediately carried back to the camp. Several physicians entered the tent, and soon Song Gu and Qu Zhe arrived as well, but were denied entry by the imperial doctors, waiting anxiously outside.

Only that evening were visitors allowed. When Nangong Mingchen entered, one physician was applying acupuncture to Fu Lanchen, while another reported to Song Gu. Seeing Nangong Mingchen, Song Gu nodded slightly.

Fu Lanchen lay in bed, not fully conscious, occasionally murmuring unintelligible words. The physician listening closely finally said softly, “His Highness seems to be calling someone’s name... It sounds like... Ah Zhao... Perhaps someone important to him.”

At these words, both Nangong Mingchen and Song Gu, who had just arrived, were startled.

Song Gu spoke gravely, “Physician, focus on your treatment. Do not be distracted.” The physician nodded, no longer speaking.

Before the treatment was finished, Nangong Mingchen left the tent, followed by Song Gu. Outside was even quieter than within.

When the Crown Prince was carried back unconscious, the soldiers feared disturbing his rest, so they walked softly.

“The young lord of the Pei family, Pei Zhaojin, died in the palace seven years ago. It’s been a lingering sorrow for the Crown Prince,” Song Gu said, gazing at the distant snow-capped peaks.

“I reclaimed my lineage late, and by the time I returned, Guangling had lost the Marquis of Wujing. This is my first time hearing of it, Marquis, please forgive me,” Nangong Mingchen replied with a gentle smile and a bow.

Song Gu withdrew his gaze, hands clasped behind his back, and snorted coldly, “No need. It hasn’t been that many years, but people keep it secret.”

Nangong Mingchen felt a twinge in his heart. For Xu Guiyi’s sake, he had investigated the Pei family’s decline.

Yet before Song Gu, as someone who had only recently entered the nobility of Guangling, he dared not show familiarity. So he feigned surprise, “Why such secrecy? I heard the Pei family were loyal generals, devoted to their country, much like the Marquis’s own house.”

Song Gu glanced at the young man beside him, a peculiar smile on his face.

“If only His Majesty could hear you say this.” Alas, even if the emperor heard, he would not believe it.

Two or three days later, Fu Lanchen finally recovered enough to rise. Though his health improved, his manner of speaking remained as sharp as ever.

Seeing him able to take medicine on his own, Nangong Mingchen teased, “The physicians watched over Your Highness for nights, feeding you endless medicine. Had you not awakened, the Marquis would have had them executed on the spot.” It’s good to have an uncle’s care!

Fu Lanchen sat up, his voice weak but amused, “Are you sure they were feeding me, not forcing it down? Don’t think I was so unconscious I didn’t know what you all did.”

Nangong Mingchen raised his brows and laughed, “If Your Highness slept so soundly, would there be any need to force the medicine? You should be grateful it was the physicians and not the Marquis himself. Imagine how he’d administer it!”

Fu Lanchen pulled his covers, conceding, “Better you all do it.”

Fu Lanchen’s recovery was swift. That day, stepping out of the tent, he saw the sky radiant. Snow lay thick upon countless mountains, the moon pale above. The snow of Cuolan Mountain never melted, a sight Fu Lanchen had never witnessed.

Yun’er City was guarded by this natural barrier—a true chasm.

But with the Marquis of Changping, even a chasm would be conquered. So said Shen Yu, far away in Guangling.

Guangling had entered the height of summer when Xu Guiyi finally received the first triumphant news from Cuolan Mountain: the army had crossed the peaks.

At that moment, Xu Guiyi was in Tai Ning Palace, awaiting Doctor Jiang’s follow-up examination of the emperor. Doctor Jiang cheerfully congratulated, “Your Majesty, I offer my congratulations twice over. Yesterday, word came that Prince Zhao’s illness has healed, and today brings victory from Liaodong. Heaven blesses Dayi, heaven blesses Your Majesty.”

After two months bedridden, the emperor now laughed heartily, “Heaven bless Dayi, heaven bless my sons. Yuanhe, send the order: when Prince Zhao and the Crown Prince return, I shall lead them to the imperial tombs to honor our ancestors.”

Yuanhe was even happier than the emperor, bowing, “Your servant obeys.”

Xu Guiyi hurried forward, smiling gently, “I too congratulate Father Emperor, wishing you a swift recovery.”

The emperor was delighted. “No need for formality, Crown Princess. You have worked hard these days.”

“It is my duty, not a hardship.”

The emperor nodded with satisfaction and immediately ordered his private treasury opened, bestowing many treasures upon Xu Guiyi, among them a rare Phoenix Blood Gem.

He said, “This gem is a priceless treasure. I grant it to the Crown Princess. You may carve it however you wish.”

Xu Guiyi politely declined, then knelt to thank him, “Your humble daughter-in-law thanks Father Emperor for his great kindness.”

In the fifteenth year of Chengxiao’s reign, mid-July, the imperial army conquered Yun’er City. The emperor of Dayue sent envoys to seek peace. Thus, the three eastern provinces, divided for fifty years, were all reclaimed.

In Changqiu Palace, the Empress finally opened her eyes in the prayer hall, hands pressed in devotion. “I thank the Buddha for blessing Dayi with peace and prosperity, and for the safe return of our soldiers at the border.”