Faraway Star (Raw) 10/25/2024
The man in Blackhood said: It seems we are just circling in this maze.
Suddenly the young assassin said: I found a way out! All three of them run to see the view.
An endless valley meets their eyes. Beautiful butterflies and dragonflies flying, fireflies swarms in their eyes. Like they saw the twinkling star in the heavens became mesmerized.
However, the three pairs of eyes looked at their backs, the Thousand Caves is gone out of their sight.
The older assassin remembered the old beggar's warning said: Your Highness, forgive me, but I think we are not just lost… We are trapped out of nowhere!
Yan Xun suddenly took off his Blackhood, not nervous and seems like he went back to his childhood days, scanned his eyes to the surroundings said: As long as we are alive, this is still earth! This is great adventure, don't you think? We will still find our way home and beat this odds!
Yan Xun stepped in to this unknown realm. Not even in his dreams saw this place. But somehow he feels peace and feels renewed. He is somehow feeling light and his worries vanished like the mists faded in the glow of the moonligh
The young assassin suddenly brought out his watch, however, looking at his compass, it points to a infinity symbol. He doesn't want to bother the King but Yan Xun asking, What is next the direction? And he is silenced knowing he would not be able to answer the King.
Yan Xun saw a Hare passing and much to his enjoyment he took his white feather arrows. Suddenly whizzing in the air and shot the hare!
The two companions were not surprised on the kill but were more astonished on how the King of Yanbei enjoyed every moment of this valley and not his usual attitude, different from who he is in Yanbei War room council.
Yan Xun went to a distance and took the hare then he said: Hey! What are you doing? Come here! Let's feast!
The two were just looking suddenly walked towards Yan Xun, and cooked the Hare. In all of their journeys they are always prepared, from hunting tools to cooking tools. The y camped and feeling like they own this valley, with no threats looming around them. Relax and carefree they just laid their backs and looked at the stars in the sky.
Snow whipped against the window of a secluded castle, casting flickering shadows across the dimly lit room. Yuwen Yue stirred a pot over the fire, the golden glow catching on his finely sculpted features.
Yuwen Yue stands with an air of quiet authority, his pale blue robes flowing gracefully around him, symbolizing both his noble lineage and his unshakable composure. The light, ethereal color reflects his reserved personality and the cool detachment with which he approaches the world. His expression is calm, almost unreadable, hinting at the deep intelligence and emotional restraint that define him.
Though his outward appearance is serene, there's an undercurrent of strength and decisiveness in his stance. His eyes, sharp and focused, suggest a man who observes everything, taking in even the subtlest details. As a master strategist and warrior, Yuwen Yue hides his emotions behind a collected facade, revealing little of his inner thoughts to those around him. This composed exterior makes him seem distant, but for those close enough to see beyond it, he is a protector who holds his values and loved ones with unwavering loyalty.
The image of Yuwen Yue captures him as a figure of refinement and mystery, embodying the tension between his noble responsibilities and the personal sacrifices he endures in his pursuit of justice and honor.
His complex character defined by his sharp intellect, reserved demeanor, and deeply-rooted sense of duty. As a member of a prominent noble family in the Wei dynasty, Yuwen Yue possesses a calm yet commanding presence. Trained from a young age to be a skilled warrior and strategist, he upholds family expectations with calculated restraint and tactical skill, which he applies both on and off the battlefield. Despite his high status, Yuwen Yue's character is marked by an internal struggle; he is often torn between loyalty to his family and the desires of his own heart.
Underneath his calm exterior lies a man with a compassionate soul, although this part of him is often hidden under a mask of indifference, resulting from years of suppression and self-discipline. His stoic, sometimes cold facade is not without reason; it serves as a shield against the betrayals and power struggles that pervade his world. However, Yuwen Yue's emotional walls begin to crack upon meeting Chu Qiao, whose bravery and resilience deeply impact him. Her presence ultimately forces him to confront his own vulnerabilities, as he comes to see that there is more to life than duty and obligation.
Time slows down, he was striking, his every movement graceful yet purposeful, as if he bore the weight of empires with quiet dignity. Across him, Chu Qiao watched, her gaze intense as her own beauty softened in the firelight. Her porcelain skin and luminous eyes, framed by dark lashes, glowed with a warmth that was as fierce as it was delicate. She was a puzzle, a warrior in a form so alluring that they hid her strength.
Chu Qiao exudes fierce determination, her gaze calm yet intense as she holds her sword upright in a symbolic gesture of resilience. Dressed in a striking red robe adorned with intricate patterns, she radiates strength and unyielding spirit. The deep crimson of her attire signifies both passion and defiance, reflecting her unbreakable will and readiness to fight for justice. Her expression is focused and serene, embodying a warrior's composure, with her eyes closed as if in silent resolve or preparation for the challenges she faces.
The ornate details on her sword reflect the dignity and honor with which she approaches her battles; this weapon is more than a tool—it's a testament to her journey from a life of hardship to one of empowerment. The traditional hair ornament she wears completes the image of a warrior with a noble soul, someone who stands poised between the worlds of grace and ferocity.
This portrayal of Chu Qiao captures her dual nature: the softness of her compassion and the steel of her resolve. She is both a protector and a fighter, driven by a sense of justice that is as unyielding as the blade she wields.
Chu Qiao is an inspiring character driven by an unbreakable will, resilience, and an intense sense of justice. From humble and oppressed origins, she rises to challenge the injustices of her world, demonstrating remarkable courage and tenacity. Chu Qiao's story is one of transformation; she evolves from a slave into a formidable fighter who refuses to be confined by her circumstances. She possesses a sharp mind and is strategic, often outwitting those who underestimate her.
Unlike Yuwen Yue, whose emotions are tempered by years of restraint, Chu Qiao wears her passions on her sleeve. Her sense of justice and empathy are unyielding, and she consistently places herself at risk to protect the innocent. Through her encounters with Yuwen Yue, Chu Qiao's character deepens, as she learns to balance her instinctive defiance with strategic patience. Together, they share a powerful dynamic: while Yuwen Yue helps temper her impetuous tendencies, she challenges him to reconsider his strict adherence to duty and tradition.
"Well, this is a sight I never thought I'd see—Yuwen Yue cooking," she remarked, her tone dry. "Guess the world really is ending."
He glanced at her, unamused. "Apparently, my reputation can't withstand something as simple as making soup," he replied, his voice cold but laced with subtle irony. "Though I thought you might have grown used to surprises by now."
Chu Qiao smirked, her words tinged with mock admiration. "Oh, I've had my fair share of surprises with you, believe me." She leaned back, crossing her arms. "Like our wedding, which you arranged faster than I could blink an eye and then the engagement followed immediately? Very… spontaneous of you."
Yuwen Yue raised an eyebrow, gently lift his eyebrows. "I thought you'd appreciate efficiency. If I recall, you didn't complain at the time."
She shot him a pointed look. "Maybe because I thought you'd meant it. Funny how I felt like more of a strategy, a lure or a test, than a bride."
Yuwen Yue's gaze didn't waver. "Strategy?" He gave a slight, humorless smile. "You think I'd risk everything just to add a strategist to my collection?"
"Who knows," Chu Qiao retorted, though her voice softened, her bravado faltering. "It wouldn't be the first time you hid your true intentions, Yuwen Yue."
They locked eyes, an unspoken tension thickening the air between them. The fire popped, the only sound filling the silence. Finally, Yuwen Yue turned back to the pot, his movements precise and almost painfully controlled.
"True intentions?" He stirred the soup slowly. "My intentions were always clear, Chu Qiao, though maybe too clear for you to see."
"Oh, I saw them," she shot back. "Ra Yue was the man I loved, the one who didn't hide behind walls, who let me in, even when everything else was uncertain. I didn't see the guarded, distant Yuwen Yue in him."
A flicker of something flashed in his gaze—hurt, maybe, or something more vulnerable than he usually let show. He forced a chuckle, the sound low and humorless. "You think Ra Yue was someone separate from me? He was a name I took, a disguise, maybe. But the heart, the feelings—those were mine."
Chu Qiao's face softened, her voice dropping to a murmur. "Were they? Because from where I stood, I couldn't tell if Yuwen Yue wanted anything beyond control. Ra Yue gave me something real, something you keep buried under all those masks of yours."
He set the ladle down, his patience waning as he leaned toward her, eyes piercing. "And if I don't show my hand the way you'd like, it doesn't mean the feeling isn't there," he said, his voice still measured but carrying an edge of frustration. "I am who I am, and I won't apologize for that."
She looked away, though a faint smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Typical Yuwen Yue response. All stone and cold logic."
"Stone, yes. But cold?" He paused, his voice softening, though sarcasm still edged it. "You think I postponed that honeymoon because I lost interest? That I didn't want you beside me?" His gaze narrowed, though his words betrayed something raw. "Don't flatter yourself. I only postponed because I thought you needed time to decide what you wanted. When I was ready, you left me and took my bird, the only animal who sings your name every time I wake up in the morning. Do you know how hard life is when the bird was gone?"
Her eyes snapped back to him, her voice edged with vulnerability. "I had already decided, Yuwen Yue. I left because I have loved you, and maybe willing to let go of Yuwen Yue. Everything is a mess back then, I cannot forget Yuwen Yue and what's worst was still seeing it in Ra Yue."
Yuwen Yue held her gaze, his face softening for a brief, unguarded moment. "Maybe I thought it was you who couldn't decide," he replied, his voice quiet. "You never could quite separate me from Yan Xun and to make this more complicated, almost made me believe you are in love to that Foxy Emperor in Liang!"
Chu Qiao scoffed, though her words wavered. "Yan Xun?" she asked, her voice breaking slightly as she lowered her gaze. "Many people have predicted that too, even I myself somewhat believed in it but I only realized later after I lost Yuwen Yue in the icy lake, it is never Yan Xun. And Xiao Ce? To tell you bluntly, he gave Xing'er the moon and the stars though he knows so well, I loved Ra Yue—the one who seemed free of all this weight, who could laugh, who could care, even if he never said it aloud."
Yuwen Yue looked at her, something almost gentle softening his stoic expression. "Then understand this, Chu Qiao: Ra Yue was no different than I am now. He was only an escape, a chance for you to see what lies beneath the name and title. I may not be good with words, but my feelings have never changed."
Chu Qiao blinked, a mixture of regret and understanding flickering across her face. "Maybe I needed you to show it."
His lips quirked in a slight, sarcastic smile. "After all this time, do I really need to spell it out for you?" He moved closer, the hint of a wry smile fading into something more earnest.
"If I haven't made it clear by now, then maybe I've already failed you."
She looked up, her defenses dropping, her voice barely a whisper. "I think you're the only one who hasn't failed me, Yuwen Yue."
For once, he didn't reply with sarcasm. He reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek as he looked at her, all pretense fading. "Then let's put the past where it belongs," he murmured, his voice soft yet firm, "and try to find something real."
Yuwen Yue gazed on Chu Qiao eyes, unrelenting and walked closer to her. His eyes lingering and wanting Chu Qiao, here and now. All by themselves and no one is allowed to held back.
Yuwen Yue is saying all self preservations is cancelled now Xing'er… You can't go anywhere, let's face this now, there is no tomorrow.
Yuwen Yue kissed her passionately and Chu Qiao did not hesitate.
She tasted this kiss several times and God how she missed it, her eyes begin to shed small tears. While her eyes closed, her lips damped with Yuwen Yue's lips, her mind wondered as far as she could not remember, back in their time together, their distance, their stolen glances, and this kiss, she wished for it every day.
Chu Qiao managed to hold Yuwen Yue's face and said softly, you never knew how I wished for you everyday. When Yuwen Yue…, I died, in the icy lake I stopped breathing. Losing you was losing me.
Yuwen Yue gave him a very alluring stare, being close to her like this and hearing Chu Qiao saying these words he longed to hear, he said: Wishful thinking, my dreams came true, kissing you before I died that day. In the icy lake, before I closed my eyes, thinking it would be the last time to see Xinger's eyes…
Yuwen Yue intensified his kiss, he want Chu Qiao to learn to respond without any guilt or shame or thinking their master and slave status before.
Yuwen Yue's ears turns red, his veins swell with inexplicable excitement, this overload of emotions, he never experienced before.
Chu Qiao responded well, her kiss caught Yuwen Yue's lips, feels its hotness and her stomach she thought, like flying a hundred butterflies.
"What is this… she softly moaned… Yuwen Yue, I feel …" she stopped. Yuwen Yue continued kissing her saying …
"Let it go Xing'er…"
In between their lips, their breaths, Yuwen Yue never stopped tasting her lips her tongue. Their lips and hers twitched.
I want all of it he said and Chu Qiao suddenly gently pulls back from Yuwen Yue while his eyes still closed, she let out a tear said, Yuwen Yue, I can not hold my feelings for you, you cannot stay away anymore…
Yuwen Yue opened his eyes, he chuckled then said, sounds like a threat, I like it that way. And I don't mind you giving me this kind of threat everyday.
This scent, his eyes, his nose, his lips, though have wearied over the years of their distance she love it all.
Yuwen Yue or Ra Yue, whoever he is, it is true when he said, he never changed and he is always after her. Defying odds, wars, and stepping to unimaginable realms, Yuwen Yue is just following her footsteps. All of this just for her.
The shadows gently moved as the souls longed for this moment, Yuwen Yue is saying words in between his breath and kiss to Chu Qiao's lips, his was as soft as the fall of plum blossoms calls out her name
Xing'er… Xing'er… Xing'er…
I don't know how else to express this. Chu Qiao gasping her breath it seems she wanted to pull back again, cannot let Yuwen Yue take it all.
Yuwen Yue followed his instincts did not stop himself in proceeding further.
Chu Qiao chained in both emotions of wanting him and not wanting him at this moment makes her eyes cry as Yweun Yue hands gently caressed her neck his lips found its taste of sweetness and Chu Qiao smelled Yuwen Yue's usual plum blossoms scent, like the faint first rain of May she is drench in his scent.
This is a reward. A fourth Young Master's scent, nothing changed.
Yuwen Yue went to shower her more kisses in her neck, his lips and tongue did not stop this sensation he heard Chu Qiao moaned like she is resisting Yuwen Yue says, release it, Xing'er don't hold back.
Chu Qiao like she has no strength left makes her feel she betrayed herself in this moment, feelings held for Yuwen Yue is going to bloom now, as she feels the man she loves ownd her neck, every inch of it, every breath she takes Yuwen Yue owns it.
As delicate as the spring blooms, searching further his hands did not stop went down and found her bosoms'.
There, like the delicate lotus flower Yuwen Yue touched it so gently and felt all its warmth and did not stop touching it like it is going to bud into many blossoms.
Yuwen Yue held it until …
Chu Qiao felt its going to lose her mind said: Yuwen Yue, your hands, ah… I beg you..
Chu Qiao let's out voiceless sound, a moan she could not hold any longer, she doesn't know anything now, but to beg Yuwen Yue.
Yuwen Yue you're stripping me off my sanity. I cannot let you go now.
Yuwen Yue silently stopped for a while looked at Chu Qiao, made sure she is okay said: "I am sorry, you will beg for this entire night but I won't stop, Xing'er all this years… Why put your feelings to anyone else? This is all for me…
Yuwen Yue understood just now, discovered Chu Qiao's hidden feelings for him buried since when? He cannot measure, time cannot tell. Right now, she brought with her a deep as his graveyard would be dugged up…
Yuwen Yue feels so elevated with this undiscovered feelings of Chu Qiao now poured in to him.
He said; you are right, when you said I am cruel and I will be sorry everyday for thinking I am just wishful thinking about your love for me.
Yuwen Yue repeated this touch over and over again until Chu Qiao is empty with words, only a sigh, a feeling so elated, of happiness released.
Yuwen Yue softly saying in her ears, How could you mask these feelings for me… and this… I am too stupid not to reciprocate, we could have died fighting for nothing but all of this feelings to be buried in our graves?
Chu Qiao in tears, though this time she knows now, this is Yuwen Yue's resolve, to achieve her happiness through him.
Following years of distance and unspoken words, Yuwen Yue and Chu Qiao find themselves together again on a belated honeymoon. Their time is filled with sweetness and tenderness, but also the aching confessions of long-buried emotions. Slowly, as the walls between them dissolve, they begin to rediscover each other and the love that has waited patiently through the years.
The relentless snow buried the white stone towers of the castle, cloaking them in thick, icy layers. Outside, the fierce storm raged on, obscuring all traces of the world beneath. If this blizzard continued, could they ever recover their lost kingdom, or had they drifted too far from their duty to remember it?
Within the castle walls, no one seemed concerned. Days had passed since anyone had seen the rulers—their absence from the throne stark and strange. Since their last encounter, they had retreated from the world, isolating themselves as if forgetting they had subjects to lead and an empire to govern. Yet the question lingered: how long could they remain hidden before duty pulled them back?
Inside, the air suddenly thickened with the acrid smell of burnt spices. Smoke billowed from the kitchen, curling out in waves. A loud crackle broke the silence—a pot on the stove had boiled over, now scorched and spilling. It was a sign, a hint that perhaps they'd been neglectful for too long.
The pair glanced toward the kitchen, eyes wide with feigned innocence, unfazed by the possibility of a fire. They simply gazed at each other, seemingly content to ignore the small disaster brewing only a few feet away.
Finally, Yuwen Yue broke the stillness, a dry smile tracing his lips as he shook his head slowly. Despite the crisis, his gaze softened with a hint of amusement as he stretched out his arms toward Chu Qiao. "Ah, I hate this," he murmured, pulling her close. "Can you give me just a minute?"
Chu Qiao, still enveloped in Yuwen Yue's scent, was unbothered by the chaos around them. She smiled lazily. "Sure. I'd rather not be roasted alive tonight," she replied, feigning lightheartedness as her eyes sparkled mischievously.
Yuwen Yue paused, a glimmer of amusement sharpening his features. "Roasted alive?" he said, fixing her with a smoldering gaze. "Even if death itself tried to steal you from me, it would be sorry. Nothing—no fire, no threat from Yanbei, not even death—can take you from my side."
Chu Qiao's expression softened, though she blinked in surprise, her gaze dropping. Yuwen's words echoed her deepest fears and desires, the ones she rarely admitted. Still, she forced a playful grin. "Yanbei? I thought that matter was long settled."
Yuwen's eyes narrowed slightly, his expression shadowed but determined. "Some things, like love and loyalty, can't be settled or silenced," he whispered. "Not even by time."
Yuwen Yue wrestled with the fire, determined to keep the flames from spreading. He pulled the charred pot off the stove, only to find the soup reduced to a blackened, inky sludge. "Well, that's a waste," he muttered, shaking his head in resignation.
Chu Qiao paused, her gaze drifting as she considered his words, realizing the deeper meaning they carried. "You know," she said quietly, her voice softened with thought, "for a time, I imagined staying in Yanbei for the rest of my life. The endless grasslands and the forever snow felt like they'd swallowed me whole, turning everything cold, distant—even me." She hesitated, her eyes lost in memory. "It's a different kind of cold. You don't feel it at first. It just…numbs you, deep down."
Yuwen Yue watched her, the familiar glint of understanding in his gaze.
"But maybe I needed it," she continued, a faint smile touching her lips. "That coldness taught me things warmth never could. It showed me what kindness and warmth really mean—things I might never have learned otherwise."
Yuwen Yue turned away from the scorched pot with a resigned sigh, his gaze falling on Chu Qiao. Despite his usual cold demeanor, he couldn't shake the warmth blooming inside him—an odd feeling of closeness he hadn't allowed himself to indulge in before. Silently, Chu Qiao stood and went to set about preparing tea, reaching for a small wooden tray and arranging delicate cups, her hands moving with practiced grace.
"Wait here," she murmured, disappearing briefly before returning with a small assortment of late-night treats: a bowl of bao bing (flaky pastry filled with sweet red bean paste), a plate of gui hua gao (fragrant osmanthus flower cakes), and Yanbei (a creamy, double-skin milk custard).
She poured the tea slowly, watching the steam curl up, its warm, earthy aroma filling the air between them. Setting a cup in front of Yuwen Yue, she allowed himself a long, lingering look, admiring the way the firelight played across his face. Despite the cold stone walls around them, there was a glow in his eyes, a spark that seemed to say goodbye to her guarded heart.
Taking a slow sip, he said, "You always speak of Yanbei's coldness. But…you don't miss it, do you?"
Chu Qiao took a moment to answer, her hands wrapped around the tea cup, letting the warmth seep into her skin. "I don't know if it's something you can 'miss,'" she replied softly, "but Yanbei is a part of me. I learned survival there—the kind that reaches beyond battlefields." She gave him a sideways glance. "It's the place where I learned who I could trust and who I could not."
Yuwen Yue felt the faintest trace of a smile tug at the corners of his lips. "Trust can be as brittle as ice on a winter morning. Did you know why I came to Yanbei that day?"
Chu Qiao didn't respond immediately, her gaze fixed on the tea swirling in her cup. "Yes and no. Yes because I think, in a way, you trust me more than anyone else," she admitted. "You're like the mountains that break the wind—always there, always standing firm. But…you're not an easy man to understand. so I say no."
"Nor are you," he replied, his voice softened but steady. "But that doesn't mean we aren't meant to understand each other."
She looked up, surprised by the tenderness in his words, but he only returned a cool, enigmatic gaze, maintaining the calm mask he always wore. Beneath that expression, though, Yuwen Yue felt an intensity swelling in his chest. He had always prided himself on his restraint, his calculated decisions, yet here he was, entirely captivated by her presence.
He poured them both more tea, feeling the weight of each passing moment, the gravity of their unspoken words. "Do you ever wonder," he began, his voice a low murmur, "if we've spent too much time fighting battles outside and forgotten the ones within ourselves?"
Chu Qiao looked thoughtful. "Sometimes I do. But I've also come to realize that those battles, however lonely or painful, can be the very thing that shapes us. They remind us of what's worth fighting for, what we'd die to protect."
Yuwen Yue let her words sink in, his expression hardening slightly. Beneath his composed exterior, he was deeply moved. To him, Chu Qiao was more than just an ally or a companion—she was the very reason he continued to hold onto his strength. The knowledge that she depended on him, relied on his unwavering resolve, was both a burden and a gift he cherished more than he'd ever admit.
He reached across the table, brushing his fingers lightly against her hand, the smallest gesture that spoke more than words. "Know this, Chu Qiao," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "As long as I draw breath, you'll never be alone."
Barely above a whisper, Chu Qiao's voice trembled with the memories. "When they told me about you," she began, her voice soft yet steady, "I knew that even if there was only a one percent chance it was true, you'd go. You couldn't bear to leave even the smallest hope unchecked. But when you discovered it was a trap—that you'd been right, that 99 percent of it was a lie—you made sure Yanbei felt the weight of his betrayal. You taught Yan Xun a lesson he'd never forget, one he'd regret the moment he tried to use me to deceive you."
She paused, a shadow crossing her face. "But that day changed him," she continued, her voice low and haunted. "After that, Yan Xun didn't just seek revenge. He was consumed, driven by a hunger for blood rather than justice. His heart was hardened, and his vision clouded. He no longer saw a battlefield but a bloodbath, thirsty not for vengeance, but for the thrill of power."
Her eyes fell, and her voice grew firmer, as if sealing her own fate. "And so, I cut myself from him. What happened to Yuegong that day, I, Chu Qiao, am no longer bound by the hem of his robe. I no longer care what Yan Xun does or where his path leads." Her voice softened, yet a note of defiance lingered. "It doesn't concern me anymore."
Yuwen Yue listened intently, his gaze unwavering as her words grew in intensity.
"He tried to restrain me," she continued, her voice trembling with emotion. "He sent men, arrows, and walls to block my way. But I was beyond his reach, beyond his orders or his fury. I no longer walked in that world. All I knew—all I cared about—was that massacre is unforgivable, and you. I knew you would face him, no matter the cost, to teach him that lesson. Even if it meant your life, your reputation, your title…"
Her voice faltered, but she pressed on, each word thick with emotion. "You didn't fear his armies, his forces. You were willing to sacrifice everything. And in that moment, I knew that you would be there until the last breath. That's when I realized—I'd lost him to his darkness, but you…"
"That day, you stood alone on the icy lake, surrounded by your the Eyes of God servants and assassins. You faced The World and his 200,000 cavalry with only 300 men. I watched you, being peeled layer by layer by those loyal few, and my heart almost stopped. There was blood on your Hanfu, dripping down, staining the snow like its claiming you soon." She swallowed hard, her voice breaking. "Your sword was bathed in that red mist. You looked so proud, so resolute…but I could see it. I saw it in the way you stood, the sweat beading on your brow—you were barely holding on, all of this just because of me?" I know better now.
Yuwen Yue moved closer, his gaze holding a mixture of understanding and sorrow. He reached out, his hand brushing lightly over hers, anchoring her in that fragile moment. "You may have cut yourself off from him," he said quietly, "but he wasn't willing to lose control over you without a fight. Yet, even with all that's happened… despite the paths we've taken, everyone was lost that day." He paused, his voice faltering slightly. "Even I was lost—lost the moment you left Yan Xun. I found myself finding answers, but in that moment, I found the meaning of life… through you."
A bittersweet smile flickered across Chu Qiao's face. Her eyes softened, brimming with a rare vulnerability. "How could I abandon you?"
All of my battle plans faded. My time and tested strategies dried up. All I knew was that I had to get to you," she admitted, her voice trembling. "I begged The World to stop, to let this pass, to turn the odds just once in your favor. But…he didn't. I saw you fall. I saw the last sign of life leave your eyes, and I felt my heart stop with yours." she whispered, her voice scarcely more than a breath.
"After everything, I had nothing left but the memory of your kindness, Yuwen Yue. I feel as though I owe you not just one lifetime, but countless ones. And for that… I'd give anything, even my life."
A flicker of pain crossed Yuwen Yue's face, though he stayed silent, listening intently.
Yuwen Yue's hand tightened around hers, his heart laid bare in that single gesture. "You owe me nothing," he replied softly, his voice firm. "Your presence alone is more than I ever thought I'd have. The world could turn against us, but as long as I have you by my side…" He paused, gathering his strength. "I would live, I would die, and I would come back a thousand times over."
Yuwen Yue's gaze lingered on her, his face drawn with both admiration and something deeper, fiercer—a devotion he'd never allowed himself to show. "And that's why I returned, Chu Qiao," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "Not because of duty or pride, but because of you. You are my purpose… the reason I fought my way back from death."
Silence hung between them, the air heavy with shared pain and memory. Then, unable to hold back any longer, Yuwen Yue moved closer hugged Chu Qiao and let her feel his heartbeat as gentle as the first snowfall, his expression shadowed by anguish, yet softened by something deeper.
"I thought I died that day," he said, his voice barely above a murmur. He reached out, his hand brushing her cheek, his touch warm against her cool skin. "But somewhere in that darkness, between life and death, I saw your face. I screamed, over and over, telling myself I couldn't be dead. I wouldn't be dead. I swore I'd come back—back to you."
His gaze held hers, intense and unwavering. "And then, I don't know how, but I felt the ice above me begin to crack, and light poured in, and I knew—I knew you were there. You brought me back."
Chu Qiao's breath caught, her eyes filling with unshed tears. She had always known he was strong, but to hear him speak this way, raw and unguarded, made her realize that he wasn't just strong for himself—he was strong for her, too.
Yuwen Yue's face softened, and a rare, almost fragile smile crossed his lips. "Then let the world try," he whispered back, his voice steady but laced with quiet defiance. "It won't win. Not this time."
They stayed that way, bound together by the shared memory of a love that had defied death, and a promise stronger than any oath.
The weight of his words hung between them, and for once, Chu Qiao was silent, meeting his gaze with a mixture of understanding and admiration. Yuwen Yue's stoic expression remained, yet his eyes revealed a depth of feeling that he'd long kept hidden—a devotion as fierce and unwavering as the mountains she had likened him to.
And in that moment, perhaps, that was all they needed.
The Runaway Prince
In the shadowy heart of Ximeng Continent, where the mountains whispered secrets and the winds carried tales of betrayal, Prince Ra Zhun moved like a wisp of smoke, unseen and untouched. Unlike his brother, Ra Zheng, whose aggressive maneuvers were marked by the iron grip of his secret spies, Ra Zhun thrived in obscurity. He was the Runaway Prince, a title both feared and revered, his elusive nature serving as both armor and weapon in a land fraught with danger.
The Gurus, a ruthless faction that thrived on conquest and destruction, had set their sights on Ra Zhun's territories. Each time they launched their brutal assaults, the prince was ready.
He had made a vow saying "nothing would be left for them to devour."
Watching from the hidden vantage points of the rugged landscape, he would let out a guttural laugh, echoing through the valleys as he beheld the futility of their efforts. Fires raged in the distance, but they were not the flames of victory; they were the embers of destruction he had wrought, consuming the lands the Gurus believed would yield them glory.
With a mere handful of Qinghai's best raiders and ambush fighters at his side, Ra Zhun had crafted a brotherhood bound not by blood, but by purpose. They were a cold-hearted crew, trained to navigate the darkest alleys of warfare, each man a weapon honed to perfection. The prince had decreed that they would not form families, save for the protection of their own kin. This harsh edict forged a fierce loyalty among them, creating warriors who had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Their parents, sisters, and brothers became their sole motivations, driving them to fight not for territory or glory, but for the survival of their loved ones.
As the Gurus rampaged through the abandoned villages and desolate fields of Ra Zhun's homeland, they found only shadows where they expected conquest. The Runaway Prince and his band of crusaders had become masters of deception, their skills in ambush and evasion unrivaled. They blended seamlessly into the rugged terrain, masquerading as simple travelers and wandering merchants, all while plotting their next strike against their oppressors.
Every failed attempt by the Gurus to capture even a single soul from Ra Zhun's elusive crowd only intensified their rage. For every villager they believed to have caught, there were ten others, cloaked in the anonymity of the wandering life, who slipped through their fingers like sand. Ra Zhun relished this game of cat and mouse, his laughter a haunting melody that danced on the wind, taunting the invaders who sought to bring him to heel.
Traveling from one hideout to another, Ra Zhun abandoned the concept of home, embracing the freedom of the open road. He became a phantom on the Ximeng Continent, leaving only whispered tales of his presence in the hearts of those who knew of him. Each step he took was calculated, a deliberate dance of misdirection, ensuring that the Gurus would always be one step behind.
In his mind, Ra Zhun envisioned the day when his elusive nature would become the very catalyst for the Gurus' downfall. Their arrogance and desire for conquest blinded them to the truth: the more they sought to claim what was his, the more he would become the nightmare they could never catch. He would remain the shadow in their periphery, always slipping away, always laughing as their dreams of victory turned to ash.
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And so, the Runaway Prince continued his journey, a solitary figure against the vast expanse of the Ximeng Continent, where legends were born and tales of betrayal echoed through the ages. With each passing day, he prepared not just for survival but for the reckoning that would one day come, a day when the laughter of the elusive prince would be the last sound the Gurus heard before their inevitable defeat.
Today the gloomy sun hides and shows itself above the high skies. The skies were an eerie blend of gray and orange as the sun dipped behind the western cliffs, casting long shadows over the dry earth. In the vast, desolate borderlands between the territories of Yanbei and Qinghai, tension and suspicion always ran high. The harsh terrain was patrolled by skilled warriors and secretive scouts who had honed their survival skills, aware that a moment's lapse in attention could prove fatal.
Ra Zhun's forces were known for their stealth, skilled in tracking and reconnaissance. Tonight, they moved with heightened caution, for rumors had spread of Yan Xun's and 2 of his men went on for secret travel, accompanied by the loyal A'Jing and the cunning Douji. It was said that they were last seen near the rocky foothills that bordered Qinghai lands, a region rarely crossed without consequence.
Ra Zhun and his men had been observing faint signs of movement in the distance for days—disturbed stones, the slight shifting of desert plants, and barely discernible footprints leading north. Hi fierce scouts had also reported strange fires on the eastern horizon, visible only in the darkest hours before dawn. After exchanging uneasy glances, Ra Zhun's raiders went on rigid search.
As they approached the edge of the plateau, Ra Zhun raised his hand, commanding silence. His gaze, sharp and unwavering, fixed on a shadowy band of figures moving in a staggered line below. Though they were distant, one figure stood out—a form vaguely familiar, stirring something in his memory.
In Qinghai, titles and ranks held little sway. Here, respect was commanded not by name or bloodline but by the blade a warrior carried. Only the sword's edge, wielded with strength and purpose, earned recognition in this fierce land.
In the early years of Ra Zhun's life, Qinghai and the Persian Empire enjoyed a strong, mutually respectful alliance rooted in trade, cultural exchange, and a shared love for the beauty of art, storytelling, and craftsmanship. Ra Zhun, then only a young prince, was sent to Persia as a child to train and study under the Persian scholars and warriors, as was customary for noble children in Qinghai seeking to understand the world beyond their mountains. This story begins there, amidst the sprawling deserts and grand halls of the Persian Empire, where the young prince would forge his character and come into possession of the legendary shamshir.
When Ra Zhun arrived in Persia, he was no more than twelve years old, small for his age but already exuding the composed demeanor that would one day earn him the title "Velvet Prince." Although he was a foreigner in an unfamiliar land, his respectful manners and eagerness to learn quickly earned the admiration of Persian scholars and nobility alike. For Ra Zhun, this was a time of wonder: he marveled at the golden sands of the Persian deserts, the azure-tiled palaces, and the majestic gardens filled with flowers and fountains that seemed to bloom in defiance of the arid landscape.
Ra Zhun's time in Persia included a rigorous training regimen, guided by Master Khorram, one of the most revered swordmasters in the empire. Master Khorram was known not only for his formidable skills in combat but for his wisdom and sense of honor. Under his mentorship, Ra Zhun learned the art of the shamshir—a curved Persian sword whose design required a combination of speed, precision, and elegance.
The shamshir was not just a weapon; it was a tool that represented the wielder's spirit. Master Khorram often reminded Ra Zhun, "A blade should be as your soul, sharp when called upon, but always still and balanced until that moment." Ra Zhun took these teachings to heart, gradually mastering the techniques with a discipline that impressed even the master himself.
Rite of Passage
When Ra Zhun turned sixteen, Master Khorram summoned him to the central courtyard of the palace. In his hands was a rare and finely crafted shamshir, its blade slender and sharp, etched with intricate designs of Persian calligraphy. The handle was inlaid with silver and lapis lazuli, a tribute to Qinghai's own mountains and rivers. This was no ordinary sword; it had been crafted specifically for Ra Zhun by Persia's most skilled artisans, who wished to honor both the young prince and the alliance between Persia and Qinghai.
Kneeling before him, Master Khorram presented Ra Zhun with the shamshir and spoke solemnly, "With this blade, you are bound to the honor of both Persia and Qinghai. It will serve you only as faithfully as you serve your people and your values. Let it be a reminder that the greatest battles are won not by strength alone, but by understanding, patience, and wisdom."
Trial of the Velvet Prince
Soon after Ra Zhun received the shamshir, an event would test both his training and character. Word came of bandits who had been raiding the villages near the Persian border, and Ra Zhun was given permission to join a small group of Persian soldiers to help protect the villages. Equipped with his new shamshir, Ra Zhun joined the soldiers under Master Khorram's watchful eye.
When they confronted the bandits, Ra Zhun fought as he had been taught: swift, precise, and with a calm mind. His patience and restraint, even in the heat of battle, astonished the soldiers, who began to refer to him as "Velvet Prince," in admiration of his gentleness of spirit paired with his unyielding skill. With the bandits dispersed, the villagers hailed Ra Zhun as a hero, and he felt the weight of his duty settle upon him for the first time.
The Return to Qinghai and the Legacy of the Shamshir
After years in Persia, Ra Zhun returned to Qinghai, bringing the shamshir with him. He was now a young man shaped by the wisdom of two lands. In Qinghai, he would become known for his calm, diplomatic approach to leadership, balancing compassion with an unbreakable sense of honor. The shamshir he bore became a symbol not just of his connection to Persia but of the lessons he learned there—of discipline, humility, and the strength found in gentleness.
With the shamshir at his side, Ra Zhun earned the love of his people as a leader who wielded his power thoughtfully, only ever drawing his sword in defense of his people and their heritage. The shamshir remained a constant reminder of his formative years in Persia, and he wore it proudly, its etched blade gleaming with the memories of his youth and the lessons of Master Khorram.
In time, the story of the Velvet Prince and his shamshir grew into legend, symbolizing the bond between Qinghai and Persia and embodying Ra Zhun's unique blend of compassion and resilience. The shamshir was no longer just a weapon; it was a legacy—a living connection to the wisdom, courage, and honor that defined Ra Zhun as the Prince of Qinghai.
The Exposed Moon Kingdom
Now that the Moon Kingdom's secrets were finally unshackled, Ra Zhun's raiders moved freely, slipping in and out of its borders without alerting the Qinghai forces. Despite Yue Qi and Zuo Zong's vigilant monitoring, Ra Zhun remained elusive—a master of deception, much like Ra Yue and Ra Zheng. But Ra Zhun was no ordinary prince. Cunning and unpredictable, he wielded influence across the entire Ximeng Continent, blending in with common folk, evading close bonds, and keeping no permanent aides or identifiable allies. This made him nearly impossible to trace.
They weren't dealing with a typical prince exposed beyond Ximeng's borders; Ra Zhun was well-versed in foreign customs, adept in martial arts that extended far beyond China's traditions. His mysterious nature was as much his defense as his weapon, rendering him a constant but ghostly presence—one that lingered in shadows, untouchable, yet impossible to ignore.
Meeting the Rebel Lord
Yan Xun advanced, flanked by A'Jing's slight but nimble frame on one side and Douji's wiry figure on the other. Each movement conveyed a wary confidence, as if they walked a line between diplomacy and battle.
At the ridge, Ra Zhun and his raiders took their places, closing in from all sides to block any chance of escape. Their formation was no accident; each warrior stood poised to strike at the slightest sign of trouble.
Yan Xun's group halted, their senses already tuned to the threat around them. Yan Xun scanned the landscape, his expression grim but steady as he took in the scene, sizing up the ruffian raiders of this so-called "Happy Valley." A'Jing, sharp-eyed as always, gave a subtle nod toward the Qinghai scouts lurking in the shadows, while Douji shifted, ready to defend in a heartbeat.
The silence broke as Ra Zhun, calm and unruffled, unsheathed his Shamsir sword, giving no indication he was the leader of these ruffians. Then one of the raiders stepped forward, his voice like steel: "You've wandered into lands that don't take kindly to strangers. We won't allow you to go any further."
Yan Xun's eyes narrowed. He glanced at A'Jing and Douji, signaling for them to relax, to act as if they were mere travelers caught in a wrong turn. But his expression, a mix of defiance and quiet resolve, betrayed otherwise.
"First of all," he replied coolly, "we're not here to 'cross lands.' Second, you're absolutely right—no one 'allowed' us to stroll through these delightful meadows. And third…" He paused, drawing Ra Zhun's attention, then added with a wry grin, "We're lost. Care to help us find our way home?"
Ra Zhun chuckled, eyeing Yan Xun skeptically. "Lost, are we?"
He turned to his raiders with a smirk. "Shall we really believe that this man, who bears a striking resemblance to the 'disgraced Prince of Yan,' is lost in the heart of Qinghai?"
The mob erupted in laughter, their voices echoing across the ridge. Yan Xun chuckled as well, but with a sudden flick, an arrow now hovered just inches from Ra Zhun's neck, poised over the pulsing green vein.
"What was that about a 'disgraced Prince'?" Yan Xun asked, his voice dripping with mock politeness.
Ra Zhun, stunned by Yan Xun's speed, barely managed to keep his arrogance in check. "Yes, Your Grace," he sneered, his voice laced with sarcasm. "The disgraced Prince of Yanbei!"
The raiders shifted uneasily, more stunned by Ra Zhun's admission than by the blade at their leader's throat.
Yan Xun let out a dry laugh. "And what do you think a disgraced Prince is capable of?" His tone was mocking, daring them to underestimate him.
Ra Zhun swallowed but held his composure, his voice hoarse but resolute. "You—you're a Rebel Lord!"
Yan Xun grinned, clearly amused. "Oh, I'm flattered that you know. Now, tell your men to drop their weapons, if you don't want to drench in your blood." Yan Xun looks back and forth in Ra Zhun's neck and the arrow in his hand.
A tense silence followed. After a moment of mock and defiance, Ra Zhun nodded grudgingly. "Drop your weapons," he ordered, his voice reluctant but resolute.
A'Jing and Douji wasted no time binding the raiders' hands and feet, gagging their mouths with torn cloth. Ra Zhun was brought to his knees, blood trickling from his lips after a swift kick from Yan Xun.
"Good boy," Yan Xun sneered and patting the head of Ra Zhun like he is dog, twirling his white-feathered arrow between his fingers, amused. He was clearly enjoying the power shift.
Nearby, Ra Zheng's hidden spies watched the scene with interest and apprehension took note of their location and parties. When suddenly, another faction approaching silently, they pretended to be invisible but watched all their moves.
In a hushed exchange, Zuo Zong glanced at Yue Qi for guidance. Yue Qi's gaze fixed on Yan Xun. "This path doesn't belong to those who run from their past. Capture them." Yue Qi's emotions cannot describe his sudden urge to kill twitched his palms.
Zuo Zong's men exchanged uncertain glances signaling Ra Yue's band of brothers charged down toward Yan Xun, A'Jing, and Douji.
These are lands of deadly scorpions and criminals. No one dared step in these lands and got out alive. Fierce and weather-worn, they looked more like mercenaries or predators than soldiers. The terrain and people of Qinghai were as treacherous as ever; tales of skinned travelers and cannibalistic tribes kept most outsiders far from these lands.
Douji caught Yan Xun's eye, and a wordless understanding passed between them. Qinghai had more surprises in store.
After years on the battlefield, Yan Xun felt the pulse of a close encounter surge through him—something he hadn't felt in ages. He took a deep breath, his voice tinged with reluctant amusement. "Looks like our stay in Qinghai just got extended."
With a grin, he gave a slight nod, and A'Jing and Douji raised their hands, allowing themselves to be "captured" by Yue Qi and Zuo Zong's with Ra Yue's Band of brothers.