The twenty-third year of Jinghe.
Great Xia’s power was at its zenith. Where its iron cavalry rode, the four seas were unified, the eight directions bowed in submission, and ten thousand nations came to pay tribute in an era of peerless prosperity.
Before the morning mist had fully dispersed, the grand streets of Xindu City were already bustling with blond-haired, blue-eyed Hu merchants and turbaned, barefoot barbarian envoys.
Treading upon the sun-warmed bluestone pavers, they gazed up at the banner fluttering atop the city gate tower—emblazoned with a golden “Xia” against a crimson field.
“Is this Xindu City?” Yue Qi, the young prince of Loulan, stood among the crowd and asked the interpreter beside him.
On his deathbed, his royal father Yue Sheng had told him that he had two great regrets in this life: the first was never being able to gaze upon the Divine Lady once more, and the second was never having the chance to visit Xindu City again.
And he had traveled ten thousand li to Xindu City precisely to fulfill his father's dying wish.
Before the interpreter could answer, a carriage rumbled past the pair without a single horse pulling it. At the front sat only a young man wearing a bamboo conical hat, gripping a dark iron control lever.
Yue Qi’s eyes widened in astonishment as he watched the iron carriage glide smoothly away until it vanished at the end of the long street.
“Interpreter Xu, wh-what is that?” He raised a hand, pointing at the retreating vehicle, his voice trembling slightly.
The interpreter smiled. “That is a self-propelled iron carriage newly crafted by Great Xia’s Ministry of Works. Powered by fuel oil, it can travel eight hundred li a day.
“Nowadays, ordinary folk take it when traveling. It is far swifter and much steadier than horses.”
Before Yue Qi could fully process the shock of the iron carriage, a massive shadow swept over his head.
He snapped his head up to see a wooden glider measuring a full ten zhang across spread its wings, soaring directly above the city gate tower. Suspended beneath its belly was a bronze gondola carrying several officials in formal robes, who were pointing down and surveying the official road outside the city.
“Wh-what is flying in the sky?” Yue Qi’s attendant went limp in the knees and collapsed onto the ground.
“That is a wooden glider. It can carry ten people and was also created by the artisans of the Ministry of Works to patrol the borders and deliver urgent dispatches.” Unfazed by the sight, the interpreter pointed toward the distant mountain range. “Over that great mountain lies Great Xia’s Western Encampment, where they possess thunderfire cannons that spew flames, capable of blasting mountains and shattering boulders with a single shot.”
Such things were common knowledge throughout the city, so there was no harm in speaking of them to foreigners.
Moreover, Great Xia’s Ministry of Works teemed with exceptional talent.
If the Ministry of Works had unveiled something for public use, it merely signaled that they had already developed something far more formidable behind closed doors.
Yue Qi swallowed unconsciously, his gaze drawn to a three-story glass pavilion beside the street.
Completely transparent, the pavilion displayed all manner of ingenious contraptions: chiming bronze clocks, luminous pearl lamps that shone without fire, and boxes that played melodies...
A crowd of foreign merchants clustered before the counter, trading gold ingots for those exquisite, palm-sized boxes, cradling them cautiously against their chests as though holding peerless treasures.
“What are those boxes?” Yue Qi could not resist asking again.
The interpreter glanced over. “Oh, those are music boxes. Just press the trigger mechanism, and you can hear all sorts of music.”
Yue Qi’s heart trembled, warmth prickling behind his eyes.
He recalled once more his royal father on his deathbed, frail, withered hands clutching his wrist, cloudy eyes gazing toward the east: “Qi’er, Xindu City is where people are truly meant to live!”
Back then, he had not understood.
Loulan had its cities, its flocks of sheep and herds of cattle, its desert smoke and river sunsets—how could it possibly fall short of Great Xia?
At this moment, standing on the streets of Xindu City, witnessing the shuttling iron carriages, the soaring wooden gliders, and the foreign merchants in the glass pavilion trading gold ingots for ingenious music boxes, he finally understood.
No wonder his royal father had carried that regret to his grave, having never been able to see vast, magnificent Great Xia one last time.
The deeper they ventured down the avenue, the more prosperous the surroundings grew.
Eventually, they arrived before a magnificent structure.
Standing ten zhang tall and constructed entirely of white jade, the building seemed to glow from within under the sunlight.
A colossal plaque hung atop the entrance, inscribed with three massive characters: Library.
“This must be the legendary Library!” Yue Qi looked up, thrilled beyond measure. “I have heard that it encompasses everything under the sun, from the astronomy above to the geography below...”
Unable to contain himself, he took a step forward.
The interpreter reached out to stop him.
“Prince Yue Qi, please halt. The Library was bestowed by the Divine Lady; non-citizens of Great Xia are forbidden to enter.”
At those words, Yue Qi’s eyes filled with deep regret.
Standing outside, he peered through the glass windows, only to see endless rows of bookshelves stretching far beyond sight.
Those seated by the windows reading included people in fine silk as well as coarse hemp, young and old alike.
“Prince Yue Qi, the hour grows late. Didn’t you intend to pay your respects to Minister Pei?” the interpreter reminded him.
Yue Qi snapped back to reality and followed the interpreter along the road.
At last, they stopped before a modest courtyard residence.
The interpreter said, “We have arrived. This is the residence of Cabinet Minister Pei Wanning, Minister Pei.”
Yue Qi looked up.
He had expected to see yet another grand mansion.
Pei Wanning was one of Great Xia’s Cabinet Ministers, who had single-handedly helped forge this glorious age of Great Xia where ten thousand nations paid tribute.
Shouldn't her estate be magnificent and resplendent?
Yet what met his eyes was a courtyard that could not be more ordinary. Wedged between a row of exquisitely carved and painted residences, it stood out starkly, looking completely out of place.
“I heard Minister Pei hails from the Pei Clan of Heluo and possesses illustrious merits. Why is her estate so humble?”
The interpreter’s expression shifted abruptly. He hastily covered Yue Qi’s mouth and pulled him aside.
“Prince Yue Qi, you must not speak of such things!” Looking left and right nervously, he lowered his voice. “You may not know this, but Minister Pei is the sole survivor of the Pei Clan of Heluo.”
Yue Qi was stunned. “How could that be?”
The interpreter sighed. “Over a decade ago, Minister Pei’s uncle suddenly succumbed to madness and slaughtered the entire Pei family. Minister Pei had no choice but to place righteousness above kinship, personally presiding over her uncle’s execution. You must never mention the Pei Clan of Heluo before her,” he cautioned Yue Qi solemnly.
Yue Qi nodded repeatedly, sighing with sorrow in his heart.
At that very moment, inside the small courtyard with gray walls and black tiles, Pei Wanning woke once more from a nightmare. Lying in a rocking chair, her chest heaved violently, a cold sweat beading upon her forehead.
The scene from her dream lingered in her mind, impossible to banish.
The execution grounds had been set up at Caishikou in Xindu City’s West Market.
As the chief supervising official, she had stood upon the platform clad in crimson official robes, a gold seal suspended at her waist.
Kneeling below the platform was her last remaining kinsman: her uncle, Pei Du.
Pei Du had always enjoyed a stellar reputation as the paragon of aristocratic gentlemen, yet that was the first time she had seen him so utterly disheveled and broken.
Clad in tattered rags, his hair hung loose over his shoulders, and a heavy wooden cangue bent his spine low.
As the execution official read aloud the list of crimes, he kept his head bowed in silence, as though listening to someone else's story.
Only when every crime had been enumerated and the official asked if he had any final words did he raise his head, looking straight toward her upon the supervising platform.
He smiled. “A’Ning, you are free now.”
When the blade fell, she did not close her eyes.
She simply stood there, watching the head of the uncle who had cherished her since childhood tumble to the ground, watching blood gush from his severed neck, watching his prison garments soaked into a shroud of crimson.
Not until her deputy reported, “The execution is complete,” did she turn and descend the icy platform, her steps steady.
Yet that night, hiding alone in her bedroom, she buried her face into the thick quilts and wept until her whole body shuddered, not daring to make a sound lest anyone overhear.
No one knew better than she that Pei Du had never suffered from madness; he had done it all for her.
Her father and mother had pressured her relentlessly to elevate their own kin, and when she refused, they threatened their own lives.
Later, her parents even became entangled with treacherous noble clans scheming for rebellion. She had tried to harden her heart, but to kill her own parents was something she could never bring herself to do.
“Uncle...” A mist of tears gathered in Pei Wanning’s eyes.
“Minister Pei, Prince Yue Qi requests an audience.” The housekeeper’s voice suddenly drifted in from behind.
Pei Wanning had no choice but to tilt her head back, blinking away the tears before slowly rising from the rocking chair.
By the time she turned to face the housekeeper, she had once again become the authoritative Minister Pei of ordinary days. “Bring him in.”
“Yes.” The housekeeper withdrew.
When the housekeeper ushered Yue Qi into the main hall, Pei Wanning was already seated upright in the center. Though simply dressed with her long hair bound by a plain hairpin, she radiated the imposing aura of someone holding supreme authority without needing to feign wrath.
Seeing this, Yue Qi hurried forward a few paces and performed Loulan’s most solemn rite of homage before Pei Wanning, dropping to both knees, crossing his hands against his forehead, and touching his brow to the floor.
“Yue Qi greets Minister Pei.”
“Rise.” Pei Wanning’s voice was serene. “Be seated.”
Yue Qi rose and sat down stiffly.
Then, he drew a red sandalwood brocade box from his robe. Exquisite patterns were carved upon its surface, the corners polished smooth and shiny with age.
Holding it with both hands, he knelt once more.
“Minister Pei, before my departure, my royal father instructed me to present this national treasure to Great Xia to demonstrate Loulan’s intention to submit for generations to come.”
Pei Wanning took the box and opened the lid.
Resting quietly atop crimson velvet was a peacock feather roughly one chi in length. Its turquoise and indigo plumes shimmered with dazzling radiance under the light, its ocellus round as a full moon.
Her breath hitched.
“This is... the Divine Lady’s plume?”
Yue Qi prostrated on the floor. “It is. Years ago, when the Divine Lady descended upon the desert, She gifted this plume to my royal father.”
Pausing briefly, he continued, “Before his passing, my father said that since the Divine Lady hailed from Great Xia, this plume ought to be returned here. Loulan is willing to be Great Xia’s subject for generations, forever honoring Great Xia as sovereign.”
Pei Wanning nodded slightly and closed the box.
“I have received Loulan’s sincerity.
“The Prince has traveled from afar. Go rest at the post house for now. Tomorrow, someone from the Ministry of Rites will show you around Xindu City.”
“Thank you, Minister Pei.” Yue Qi stood and bowed. Hesitating for a moment, he could not resist asking, “Earlier on the street, I saw the majestic Library and yearned to enter, but the interpreter said non-citizens of Great Xia are forbidden.”
A trace of yearning tinged his voice. “If Loulan submits, might I be permitted to go inside and look?”
Pei Wanning looked at him, a faint smile touching her lips. “Once Loulan submits to Great Xia, you will naturally be a citizen of Great Xia as well.
“When that time comes, not only can you enter the Library, but you may also study at Yecheng Academy and gaze at the stars at the Directorate of Astronomy.”
Yue Qi’s eyes brightened again and again.
Giving a deep bow, he turned and stepped out of the courtyard.
Pei Wanning watched Yue Qi’s retreating figure, then glanced back at the red sandalwood box on the side table.
Immediately after, her gaze settled upon the rocking chair in the courtyard.
This courtyard was where Li Qinghe had once lived. After the Divine Lady mended the heavens and dissolved into the Dao, Li Qinghe had never appeared again.
She was not surprised in the least by this.
For she had known long ago that her Sister Qinghe was none other than the Divine Lady...
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