Just after the beginning of spring, the weather had yet to warm up.
Last night, a snowfall had blanketed the mountains in silver.
Midway up the mountain stood the renowned Dazhao Temple.
The golden glazed roof was piled with thick snow, and it wasn’t until after noon that the snow began to melt, dripping down the eaves.
The sky was a leaden gray, heavy and oppressive, with no sign of clearing.
Jue Yuan, the abbot, was an elderly man, his face etched with wrinkles.
Walking along the mountain path, he glanced downward and then at the figure ahead of him. “In ten days, it will be his fiftieth birthday… Shouldn’t you return home?”
Gu Juefei remained silent.
Though a scholar, he lacked the typical frail demeanor.
His back was as straight as bamboo, radiating a sense of clarity and strength.
Tall and lean, he wore a dark blue satin robe embroidered with bamboo leaves, and over it, a black cloak adorned with cloud and crane patterns, which did little to conceal his broad shoulders and narrow waist.
His brows were like ink paintings, his sideburns sharply defined.
His eyes were deep and unfathomable, his features naturally striking.
The arrogance of his youth, when he had gained fame at a young age, had been tempered over the years, leaving him with an air of profound calm and maturity.
Even Jue Yuan, who had witnessed his transformation, found it hard to connect the man before him with the past he once knew.
Seeing that Gu Juefei remained silent, Jue Yuan sighed.
“I don’t know why you came to this mountain, but between father and son, how can there be lasting enmity? Especially after six years. In a few more years, he will be nearing retirement.”
“I’ve heard that the second son of your household is doing well. He passed the provincial examination last year, and this year, he’s preparing for the imperial examination.”
“As the eldest son of the family, if you were to return and guide him…”
“From whom did you hear this?”
At the mention of “eldest son,” Gu Juefei finally grew impatient. He lifted his eyelids and glanced at Jue Yuan, his expression half-smiling, half-mocking, cutting him off.
A closer look would reveal a layer of ice in his eyes, devoid of any warmth.
Jue Yuan knew he couldn’t hide it. “Your father. He came yesterday afternoon and spoke with me in the meditation room for a long time. He didn’t leave until late at night. The snow was heavy then…”
Gu Chengqian, the Grand Preceptor of the Great Xia Dynasty, held the highest rank among civil officials.
Thirteen years ago, during a palace coup, he had been struck by an arrow in the leg while protecting the third prince.
When the third prince ascended the throne, he was granted the title of Grand Preceptor, but the injury left him with a chronic ailment. During cold and damp seasons, the pain was excruciating, like being stabbed with needles or struck with an axe. Despite consulting countless renowned physicians, no cure was found.
The emperor, grateful for his past loyalty and moved by his current dedication to the state, had exempted him from attending court during rain or snow.
But last night, in the freezing cold, he had braved the snow to descend the mountain. What kind of state must he have been in?
Jue Yuan still remembered the sight of this powerful court official, his hair as white as the snowflakes swirling in the cold night, as he bid farewell at the temple gate.
Sometimes, words need not be fully spoken, especially to someone as intelligent as Gu Juefei.
Jue Yuan glanced at him, and indeed, Gu Juefei fell into silence.
The long mountain path was empty, with only the footprints left by Jue Yuan when he had come to find him marring the melting snow.
From the temple midway up the mountain, the faint sound of chanting the *Amitabha Sutra* could be heard.
The wind had picked up, bitingly cold.
Gu Juefei only realized his feet had gone numb when he remembered he was supposed to be descending the mountain.
He resumed walking, still silent.
Jue Yuan did not disturb him, allowing him time to think, though his own mind wandered to the past.
Gu Juefei, once known as “Young Master Gu,” was the eldest son of the prestigious Gu family in the capital.
From a young age, he had been well-versed in the classics.
At eleven, he became a disciple of Master Youyang. By fifteen, he had embarked on a scholarly journey, and by nineteen, he had returned to the capital as a celebrated young talent.
On the day of his coming-of-age ceremony, nearly every notable family in the capital attended.
With solemnity, Grand Preceptor Gu had given his eldest son the courtesy name “Rangxian.”
Soon after, Gu Juefei took the imperial examinations.
He ranked first in the provincial and metropolitan exams, astounding the court with his brilliance. Only during the palace examination, due to his youth, did the emperor modestly place him as the third-ranked scholar, the *tanhua*.
Even so, he was the youngest *tanhua* in the history of Great Xia.
At that time, which young lady of noble or humble birth didn’t dream of marrying him?
Matchmakers nearly wore out the threshold of the Gu Mansion.
Yet, no one could have predicted that in the same year, the Gu family patriarch passed away. Gu Juefei inexplicably fell out with his family and, on a rainy night, came to Dazhao Temple, never to return home.
Many were baffled.
A twenty-three-year-old *tanhua*, with a father who was the Grand Preceptor, his future as bright as the morning sun—how could he abandon it all to live in a temple as a lay disciple?
People speculated endlessly, eventually settling on one explanation:
He was heartbroken.
Rumor had it that Gu Juefei had been deeply infatuated with Wei Yi, the third daughter of Grand Tutor Wei.
At nineteen, Wei Yi had been selected to enter the palace, becoming one of the emperor’s favored consorts.
This happened just before Gu Juefei took up residence at Dazhao Temple.
As for whether Gu Juefei was truly a hopeless romantic, no one could say for sure.
Even Jue Yuan, who had watched him change over the past six years, couldn’t quite explain it.
As Jue Yuan walked, his thoughts drifted.
But like a passing breeze, these reflections left no lasting mark.
Before long, the two had descended to the midpoint of the mountain, where Dazhao Temple stood.
Following the temple wall, they approached the main gate.
At that moment, a group of people arrived from below.
Men and women, all dressed simply and neatly, surrounded a small green-curtained sedan chair, which came to a stop at the temple gate.
As the sedan was set down, a maid in a green jacket and double buns hurried forward, instructing the bearers in a soft voice.
“Lower the sedan.”
Seeing this from a distance, Gu Juefei paused.
The sedan was clearly for a woman, and it would be improper for him to approach uninvited.
At first glance, there was nothing remarkable about the group, but his keen senses detected the disciplined air of a noble household.
And something else felt off.
In such weather, and with no festival underway, there shouldn’t have been any visitors to the temple.
Jue Yuan, too, gazed from afar, his aged eyes filled with pity and sorrow. “It’s the sedan from the General's Mansion. She fell ill recently, or else she would have come half a month ago.”
He didn’t specify who had fallen ill, but at the mention of the “General's Mansion,” Gu Juefei’s confusion cleared.
For a moment, he was lost in thought.
“So, it’s her…”
The person in the sedan was likely Lu Jinxi.
The widow of General Xue Kuang, and the matriarch of the General's Mansion.
At twenty-seven, she was the mother of four children.
Eleven years ago, she, along with Wei Yi and Sun Xuedai, had been known as one of the capital’s three great beauties.
Back then, because of Wei Yi, Gu Juefei had known a little about this Miss Lu.
Unlike Wei Yi’s peony-like brilliance or Sun Xuedai’s icy elegance, Lu Jinxi was gentle and unassuming, her beauty understated.
Though equally stunning, she paled in comparison to the other two.
The year after her coming-of-age, she was granted a marriage decree by the new emperor and wed to Xue Kuang, the second son of the General's Mansion.
Xue Kuang, born into a military family, had accompanied his father on campaigns from a young age, exuding a rugged pride that many noblewomen found irresistible.
When the marriage decree was issued, he was stationed at the border. After receiving the order, he rushed back to the capital for the wedding.
However, he returned not alone but with a seductive woman and a young boy who walked with a limp.
When news of this spread, the capital was in an uproar.
No one had expected that Xue Kuang, while stationed at the border, had taken a concubine and fathered a five-year-old child!
Given that Xue Kuang was twenty-two at the time, it wasn’t unusual for a man of his age to have a concubine.
But to have a son without his family’s knowledge, and to bring the concubine back to the capital just as he was being granted a marriage—this was a slap in the face to the Lu family.
Lord Lu, deeply protective of his daughter, was so enraged that he knelt outside the palace gates that very night, cursing the crude and shameless behavior of military men who flouted propriety and left no room for decency. He wept and begged the emperor to rescind the decree.
But the emperor’s word was law, and it could not be easily revoked.
In the end, Lord Lu was persuaded to return home by his colleagues.
Within two days, the concubine Xue Kuang had brought back was said to have fallen ill from the unfamiliar climate and passed away. Her body was wrapped in a straw mat and discarded in a mass grave.
It seemed that the decision-makers in the General's Mansion were aware that the Xue family was at fault in this matter.
However, the five-year-old child was not punished and was instead raised within the mansion.
The Lu family, known for their scholarly heritage and a house full of intellectuals, had no intention of driving anyone to despair, let alone harboring malicious intent toward a child with a disability. Moreover, since the child was of Xue blood and would one day call their young lady "mother," they ultimately let the matter rest and allowed him to remain.
On the day of the wedding, the family swallowed their resentment and reluctantly married their beloved daughter, whom they cherished as dearly as their own eyes, into the Xue Mansion.
Xue Kuang, the eldest son of the Xue family's main branch, had perished on the battlefield years earlier during a war, leaving his younger brother, Xue Kuang, to inherit the family's legacy.
Though Lu Jinxi was gentle in temperament, somewhat timid, and lacked any particular cunning, she managed, thanks to Xue Kuang's status, to become the lady of the General's Mansion, albeit with great difficulty, overseeing its various affairs.
In the year of their marriage, she became pregnant and gave birth to a daughter.
The following year, Xue Kuang was dispatched to the frontier to lead military campaigns.
Within three years, he had quelled the enemy forces, and within five, he had reclaimed Yumen, commanding a formidable army of a million soldiers. He was granted the title of Grand General, striking fear into the hearts of the barbarian tribes.
For Great Xia, this was undoubtedly a glorious period.
However, during this time, Xue Kuang rarely returned home.
The young couple spent more time apart than together.
Lu Jinxi was granted the title of First Rank Lady and bore two more daughters for him. By the sixth year, she was pregnant with their third child.
It was in this same year that the Xiongnu launched a massive invasion from the west.
Xue Kuang, undefeated in battle and the brightest military banner of Great Xia, naturally took command. He led his troops westward to confront the enemy.
In the first month, at the Battle of Hanshan Pass, the Xia army decisively defeated the Xiongnu, driving them back.
But alongside the news of victory from the frontier came a shocking tragedy that shook the court—
Xue Kuang, the Grand General, only twenty-seven years old, had died in battle, sacrificing himself for the nation.
Xue Kuang had long been a thorn in the side of the Xiongnu, having slain countless enemies. The various tribes of the western regions harbored deep hatred for him.
At Hanshan Pass, the Xiongnu army had received orders: if Xue Kuang were to die, the 300,000-strong Xia army would be rendered powerless and no longer a threat.
Thus, the battle was fought with the sole objective of beheading Xue Kuang at all costs.
Surviving soldiers recounted that it had been an exceptionally brutal ambush.
In the end, they could not even recover Xue Kuang's complete body, only managing to piece together fragments of his sword and spear. They brought back his warhorse, a black steed with a blind left eye, named Wu Yun Ta Xue...
When the news reached the General's Mansion in the capital, Lu Jinxi was overcome with shock and grief, fainting on the spot.
Pregnant at the time, the trauma caused her to go into premature labor.
The situation was extremely perilous, and the Emperor issued a stern order to the Imperial Medical Bureau: Lu Jinxi, Xue Kuang's widow, and his unborn child were both to be saved at all costs.
Thus, most of the Imperial Medical Bureau descended upon the General's Mansion, creating chaos.
Fortunately, by the grace of heaven, Lu Jinxi narrowly escaped death and safely gave birth to a son, Xue Kuang's only legitimate heir.
Tearfully, she named the child "Chi," meaning "late."
As for what happened afterward...
Gu Juefei wasn't entirely sure.
Not long after these events, disillusioned and enraged, he retreated to Dazhao Temple and never returned to the capital.
But he could guess. Lu Jinxi's gentle nature made her appear weak and easy to bully within the household.
In a mansion as vast as the General's Mansion, with the Dowager, the Lady, and the Princess above her, brothers-in-law, sisters-in-law, and other relatives around her, and four children below her—one of whom was not her own—how could her life be anything but difficult?
The monks at the temple had once lamented, saying the General's wife was pitiable.
The Xue family had set up a memorial tablet for Xue Kuang at Dazhao Temple, and the Lady would visit on the 20th of each month to make offerings and donate incense money.
If Gu Juefei was the youngest top scholar, Xue Kuang had been the youngest Grand General.
But they were nothing alike, and thus Gu Juefei had never formed any deep connection with him.
He had always looked down on Xue Kuang for bringing back a concubine and child from the frontier, humiliating his lawful wife.
Yet, who could have predicted that the two men, who had once shared no ties, would now be linked in this way—one enshrined in the temple, the other secluded in a meditation chamber—a rare "fate."
His eyes were like an ancient well, calm and unrippled.
Gu Juefei quietly observed the sedan chair, his gaze devoid of any worldly emotion, as though lost in thought.
At the temple gate, the sedan chair had already been set down.
"Madam, we've arrived," called Bai Lu, the green-clad maid, as she lifted the curtain.
Inside the sedan, the hem of a woman's moon-white skirt peeked out, adorned with subtle silver embroidery of golden flowers, adding a touch of softness to the otherwise cold and austere scene. It was both delicate and pristine.
She shifted slightly, bowing her head as she stepped out of the sedan.
Her hands were tucked into a rabbit-fur muff embroidered with winding lotus vines, exuding a warm elegance.
From Gu Juefei's vantage point, he could not see her face, only her profile.
Her slender figure was draped in a moon-white jacket and a mink cloak, shielding her from the biting cold wind.
Her skin was as white as snow, her hair as dark as crow feathers. Her earlobes, pale as jade, bore no adornments, and her lips, a soft pink, were slightly pursed.
Only her phoenix eyes held an inscrutable depth as she slowly raised her gaze to the towering temple gate.
The mountain breeze swept past, but she stood unmoving, her posture dignified and almost otherworldly.
Only the edges of her robe fluttered slightly.
This demeanor...
Gu Juefei frowned, sensing an indescribable strangeness and unfamiliarity.
