Ch 1: When the Wild Goose Returns

Wind and rain lashed the world. The air was bitterly cold, and the earth felt like it could crack.

The diplomatic marriage convoy from the Kingdom of Tao was traveling along the official road toward the Yi Kingdom.

“Qing Yan?
Qing Yan?
Are you having that nightmare again?”

Qing Yan slowly opened her eyes in confusion, a cold sweat dotting her forehead.

In that recurring dream, someone kept calling her name—again and again.

The two overlapping voices—one from her dream, one from the real world—merged for a moment, until Wen Xi’s voice gradually pulled her back from the nightmare she’d had countless times before.

Wen Xi frowned. “You can fall asleep even in a carriage bumping around in weather like this?”

Wen Xi was not one to smile. Her features were cool and sharp, and her expression was always stern.

Even a neutral statement from her mouth carried an innate sense of criticism.

Qing Yan rubbed her dry, sore eyes. Her long lashes clung to her pale fingertips like porcelain. The black and white contrast made her look especially delicate—her pale fingers made her lashes appear darker, and her lashes made her fingers seem almost translucent.

She smiled sweetly at Wen Xi, her eyebrows curving like trimmed willow leaves.

When her eyes curved, they looked like crescent moons lying quietly at the bottom of a clear pond.

Her soft cherry lips curled up too, revealing twin dimples at the corners of her mouth, filled with sweetness.

There was still a faint sleep mark on her face, now mixed with the softness of youth.

“Big Sister Wen Xi,” she said gently.

Even her voice was sweet—like freshly pressed lychee juice.

She had a beautiful face—not the kind of stunning, world-shaking beauty that turned heads instantly, but a different kind of charm: delicate and full of spirit.

Especially when she smiled at you—it felt like a stream of happiness flowed quietly through your heart.

Wen Xi was unmoved. She stuffed the scroll in her hand into Qing Yan’s and said, in her usual calm, even tone:

“Since you’re awake, you should read more.
No true princess is illiterate or uneducated.”

Qing Yan whispered, “But I’ve been learning my characters properly…”

Just as she finished speaking, the carriage suddenly lurched violently.

Outside, the coachman’s shout was muffled by wind and rain.

Qing Yan steadied herself and turned toward the window.

Cold wind beat against the carriage wall like a sobbing voice, hoarse and endless.

The window paper seemed torn, and the thick curtains were soaked at the corners.

Qing Yan lifted the curtain slightly, but before she could see outside, the carriage jolted again, suddenly accelerating out of control.

Inside, both Qing Yan and Wen Xi were thrown around, grabbing each other for support as they barely managed to steady themselves against the carriage wall.

“Whoaa—” The coachman’s shout stretched long through the wind and rain.

Moments later, the carriage finally came to a stop.

Hearing the sound of boots approaching, Wen Xi lifted the curtain and called out to someone:

“What’s going on?”

He Ping answered, “It was snowing two days ago, and now there’s this winter rain.
The rain hits the old snow and instantly turns to ice. The road’s getting too slick to travel!”

Hearing this, Qing Yan craned her neck to look outside.

Sure enough, the ground was glistening like a mirror.

He Ping’s gaze involuntarily drifted toward Qing Yan’s face… then away… then back again.

Though she was still petite and fragile now, he remembered how thin and bony she’d been half a year ago.

So, a girl really can change so much just by being cared for.

Without a word, Wen Xi subtly shifted her body to block his view.

She asked, “How far is the relay station?
It’s nearly dark—can we still move forward?”

He Ping shook his head. “The general says there’s still a way to go, and pushing forward might not be safe.
But this is the wilderness, and the weather’s bad—we can’t really stop here either.
He hasn’t decided yet. I’ll go up ahead to hear more.”

Wen Xi nodded and lowered the curtain.

Then she handed a red gauze veil to Qing Yan.

“We’re getting closer to the Yi Kingdom’s capital. Don’t take this off again.
We can’t let others see your eyes.”

“Big Sister Wen Xi, do you really think my eyes can look like a real princess’s?”

Qing Yan asked while obediently putting on the half-length veil, which covered her face and part of her upper body.

The red gauze fell softly, resting lightly over her crimson dress.

Wen Xi didn’t answer. Instead, she said, “It’s time to apply the medicine again.”

Qing Yan’s shoulders instinctively shrank.

She hadn’t even applied the medicine yet, and her eyes were already starting to ache.

Blinking, Qing Yan looked pitifully at Wen Xi, who was pouring water from a waterskin into a copper basin, then sprinkling in medicinal powder before soaking a cloth in it.

Wen Xi wrung out the excess water, droplets falling with soft drip drip sounds.

Qing Yan furrowed her brows—she knew she couldn’t avoid it.

So she obediently lifted the red gauze veil, tilted her face up, and did her best to keep her eyes wide open as Wen Xi placed the damp cloth over them.

The moment the cold, wet cloth touched her face, Qing Yan shivered.

Her eyes burned with pain, like fire—but she didn’t resist. She sat up straight, her little back stiff with resolve, her eyes wide open beneath the cloth, enduring the sting as the medicine soaked in.

Water from the cloth dripped down her face and slid gently into the loose strands of her hair—like falling tears.

Seeing her delicate and docile figure, even Wen Xi’s always-cold gaze softened slightly, eventually turning into a silent sigh.

The Princess Huachao of Tao Kingdom—birth name Lingwu—was famed for her beauty and talents, a woman of both grace and brilliance.

She was also born with a pair of rare light-violet eyes, unmatched in the world, regarded by Tao Kingdom as a living treasure.

After the fall of the Zhao Dynasty, ten kingdoms rose to power, and political marriages between them became commonplace.

Tao and Yi were equals in strength. To show good faith, Tao arranged a marriage alliance by sending Princess Huachao to Yi Kingdom.

But in truth, the real Princess Huachao had already eloped with her lover. The one riding in this grand marriage convoy was a substitute.

Very few among the hundred or so members of the bridal party knew this secret.

He Ping—the man who’d just reported outside—was one of them.

He was a close personal guard of General Li, the commanding officer of the escort.

And of course, General Li, being in charge of the mission, also knew the truth.

Without his help, the real Princess Huachao would never have pulled off the switch so cleanly.

He helped her because he was a man hopelessly in love.

If Princess Huachao had only given the word, he would’ve left everything behind to roam the world with her.

But sadly, the princess he adored already had someone else in her heart.

Unwilling to see her marry a foreign prince, he helped her escape and watched her run into her lover’s arms.

The other person in the know was Wen Xi.

Wen Xi had served the princess since childhood and was completely loyal.

The real Princess Huachao was a true lady of refinement—skilled in music, chess, calligraphy, painting, poetry, wine, and flowers. But Qing Yan knew none of these things.

She couldn’t even read properly—nothing about her resembled a princess. So, fearing Qing Yan wouldn’t be able to keep up the act, the real princess left Wen Xi behind to help cover for her.

The convoy continued pushing through the storm for another half-hour before coming to another stop.

Looking around, there was no shelter in sight, only a quiet temple nestled on the nearby mountainside: Yongzhou Temple, the national temple of Yi Kingdom.

Temples were places of peace and goodwill—but bringing a bridal party full of women to one uninvited was certainly inappropriate.

General Li ordered the convoy to wait at the foot of the mountain while he and his guards went up to ask for temporary shelter.

Outside the carriage, the rain had eased into a soft drizzle.

Qing Yan lifted the curtain slightly—the dampened edge of the fabric had frozen into a thick layer of ice.

The cold wind blew straight in, pressing the red veil to her cheek.

Through the torn window paper, she stared out at the slanted lines of rain—and drifted into thought.

Yi Kingdom had sharper seasons than Tao. Winter here was brutal.

When she was a child, her pinkies would always get frostbite in the winter.

Because yes—she was originally from Yi Kingdom.

She had only left a year ago.

The night she left, there had been no rain—but the same howling, knife-sharp wind.

Leaning against the carriage wall, Qing Yan’s usually smiling eyes now carried a rare trace of sorrow.

She was simply remembering some unpleasant past from her homeland. But Wen Xi misread her silence and thought she was afraid.

Wen Xi gently reassured her, “When the boat reaches the bridge, it’ll straighten itself out. Don’t worry too much.”

Qing Yan blinked in surprise, realizing Wen Xi had misunderstood.

She turned back, her lips naturally curving into a sweet smile, her face the picture of warmth.

Even the red gauze veil couldn’t hide her sincerity:

“With Sister Wen Xi here, I’m not afraid.”

Wen Xi could only shake her head helplessly.

This foolish girl—how could she still smile so easily? When it was clear that this journey was more perilous than hopeful.

Yongzhou Temple granted them lodging, and General Li soon returned.

The mountain path was steep—carriages couldn’t go up.

Qing Yan had to put on a thick red cloak and step down to climb the mountain on foot.

The wind was fierce. No matter how thick her clothing, it couldn’t block out the cold—or hide the graceful curves of a young woman’s figure.

He Ping looked up at the red silhouette ahead and clicked his tongue.

The guards were all strong and fit, more than capable of reaching the temple quickly. But by protocol, none could walk ahead of the princess.

So over a hundred people slowly climbed the mountain steps to Yongzhou Temple.

Qing Yan wasn’t walking slowly on purpose—it was Wen Xi who wouldn’t let her hurry. A princess had to move with grace and elegance.

Qing Yan kept her head down, staring hard at the steps, afraid of slipping and making a fool of herself.

A plainly dressed young man, carrying baskets on a shoulder pole, passed her with quick, confident steps, heading up toward the temple.

Qing Yan, who had been looking down at her feet, suddenly looked up in surprise, her eyes following the man’s retreating figure.

Wen Xi gave a quiet cough.

Qing Yan lowered her voice and whispered, “He was carrying roast pig and spiced chicken on his shoulder!”

“A temple is a place of purity. Why would there be such greasy, worldly things here?”

Wen Xi’s expression didn’t shift at all.

“It’s true! There was vinegar fish too!”

This time, Wen Xi didn’t even reply.

“…It’s really true,” Qing Yan mumbled.

She slowly turned her head and used her tongue to lightly moisten her cold, dry lips.

Then, unintentionally, she looked up toward the front of Yongzhou Temple—and was surprised to see a tall, lean man wearing a bamboo hat standing atop the temple roof.

Qing Yan froze.

She slipped her stiff hands under her red veil to rub her eyes.

“Ahem.”

Wen Xi coughed again.

Qing Yan knew she was being scolded for improper behavior and quickly put her hands down.

But when she looked again, the rooftop showed only slanted lines of rain—there was no one there at all.

The medicine must have damaged her eyes, she thought.

She tugged the fuzzy edge of her crimson hood and stopped glancing around.

Once they reached the guest quarters arranged by Yongzhou Temple, Wen Xi moved quickly to prepare a bath and clean clothes for Qing Yan.

Qing Yan took off her soaked cloak and lifted her dripping skirt, ready to help—but a single look from Wen Xi stopped her in her tracks.

So she sulked back with slumped shoulders and squatted by the brazier to warm up.

So warm!

Qing Yan’s eyes curved in satisfaction.

Before long, a guard from General Li’s side arrived to summon Wen Xi.

Wen Xi put down her task and rushed off.

Qing Yan rummaged through the red clothes Wen Xi had picked out and changed into them.

Since Wen Xi wouldn’t let her do anything, she could only sit idly and wait for the water to be brought.

Sitting in the chair, she swung her legs lazily. Then she suddenly remembered that Wen Xi had left in such a rush she hadn’t even changed into dry clothes.

Jumping down from the chair, Qing Yan went to look for clothes for her.

A while later, someone knocked at the door again.

“It’s me—He Ping.”

Qing Yan ran over and opened the door just a crack. “What is it?”

He Ping was raising his hand for a second knock when her face came into view—warm and lively, smiling with gentle spirit.

The scent of the young girl hit him like spring air. He froze in place, his hand still mid-air.

After a moment, he withdrew his hand and lowered his voice. “The princess wants to see you.”

“The princess?”

Qing Yan’s eyes went wide in disbelief.

He Ping had expected this reaction. He opened his hand to reveal a single earring.

Qing Yan instantly recognized it—it belonged to Princess Huachao.

“The princess sent me to fetch you. She has important instructions. This is Yi Kingdom’s national temple—it’s full of royal spies. Don’t speak too loudly.”

Qing Yan tilted her head, shifting her gaze from the earring to He Ping’s face.

“She only wants to see me? Not Sister Wen Xi?”

He Ping smiled. “Wen Xi is already with the princess. So is General Li.”

“Oh…”

He Ping urged her again, “The princess can’t stay long. Don’t delay.”

Qing Yan shut the door, went back inside, put on her veil, and her cloak, and followed He Ping outside.

He Ping led her down a narrow path toward the rear gate.

“The princess can’t appear openly. She’s in the back hills.”

He Ping pulled his straw hat lower.

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