Chapter 72: Reminiscing the Past, Seeing Old Friends

Jiuming lowered her gaze, leaning against the doorframe with her sword held close to her chest. In the quiet of her mind, a memory surfaced—a tiny, spirited figure running without a care in the world, her laughter ringing through the air.

Suddenly, the little figure stumbled, nearly tumbling to the hard ground.

Back then, Jiuming had only recently begun her training at the Hidden Camp. Her skills were still unpolished, but she was terrified that the precious, noble little girl would hurt herself. She had lunged forward, throwing her own body down to act as a human cushion.

The ground beneath her had been littered with thorns and jagged stones. It was agonizing, but she breathed a sigh of relief when she realized the little princess was unharmed.

The girl had been startled, though.

Jiuming remembered the irony of it; after serving as a literal floor for the child, she still had to find the words to comfort the frightened little soul. Yet, as she held that small, pink bundle in her arms, her heart had been filled with a strange sense of joy and gratitude.

She was glad it was she who had been hurt.

Had it been otherwise, the single crime of failing to protect her master would have been enough to see her punished within an inch of her life.

“What is your name?”

That was the first thing her master had ever said to her.

The voice had been soft, sweet, and melodic. Jiuming had fought back a sudden, reckless urge to pinch those adorable cheeks, instead offering a disciplined, formal bow.

“This subordinate is named Jiuming.”

The little girl tilted her head, her face a mask of pure confusion. “Save me? Why would anyone have such a strange name?”

Note: The name Jiuming (九溟) is phonetically identical to the Chinese cry for help, “Jiùmìng” (救命).

“It is not ‘save me,’ Princess. It is Jiuming,” she had corrected, unable to help herself.

But the child only looked more perplexed. “Is there a difference?”

To her, they sounded exactly the same.

Seeing the innocent look on her young master’s face, Jiuming suppressed the urge to explain further. She accepted her fate and her “new” name.

Perhaps sensing the guard’s resignation, the little princess became even more bold.

“Save me! Save me!”

She called out that way constantly. Eventually, the entire Imperial Palace knew that the little princess had a secret guard named “Help Me.”

And then…

Jiuming’s gaze darkened. The tides of the palace changed quickly, and her young master’s circumstances grew increasingly dire.

It continued until the day her master left the capital for the Western Regions, where she crossed paths with that heartless wolf, Princess Lou Yanhui.

Jiuming’s hand twitched over the hilt of her sword. She fought back the impulse to rush into the room and run her blade through the woman who was currently whispering her master’s name. She waited in silence, watching for her master’s reaction.

That reaction would dictate how she treated this Western Princess—her master’s former… beloved.

***

Lou Yanhui found Luo Yunjin in a dark corner behind the phoenix-carved coffin.

The girl was surrounded by a sea of wine jars. She clutched a bottle of fine vintage in her hand, pouring it down her throat as if it were nothing but water.

“Cough… cough…”

Luo Yunjin sputtered. She thought she had heard Sister Yanhui’s voice just now.

It must be a hallucination, she thought.

Drink. Just keep drinking.

If she drank enough, she would see Sister Yanhui again. She would see the version from two years ago—the one who had promised to stay by her side forever. Not the heartless woman who had pushed her away time and again, the one who was supposed to marry someone else…

“Little Jin…” Lou Yanhui’s voice trembled, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Her Little Jin—the girl who was once so well-behaved, so bright and radiant—how had she become this?

Luo Yunjin looked up. Seeing a version of “Sister Yanhui” that looked more real than any hallucination she’d had before, a faint, tragic smile played on her lips.

It was good. She was seeing her again.

She just didn’t know how long this vision would stay this time.

Fighting through the heavy, suffocating fog of a hangover, she stared at the woman before her without blinking. She was terrified that even a single flutter of her eyelashes would scare the vision away.

Her fingertips trembled as they gripped the wine jar. Finally, she couldn’t help but reach out.

Her hand didn’t quite touch Lou Yanhui’s face. She merely hovered her fingers in the air, tracing the woman’s features from a fraction of an inch away. The sharp jawline, the deep, soulful eyes, and the affection swimming within them—Luo Yunjin felt herself drowning in the sight.

“Sister Yanhui…” she murmured softly, stumbling as she tried to stand.

She wanted to be closer. Just a little closer.

Lou Yanhui suppressed the agony in her heart and stepped forward to steady her.

The moment their skin touched, a flash of chaotic panic erupted in Luo Yunjin’s eyes.

“No!”

Don’t touch me!

Past experience had taught her that the moment they made physical contact, the vision of Sister Yanhui would vanish. It had been so long since she had seen her.

She couldn’t bear to lose her. She really couldn’t!

Lou Yanhui was startled by the girl’s cry, which sounded like a frightened kitten. When she saw the rejection in Luo Yunjin’s eyes, her heart constricted with a sharp, throbbing pain.

Does Little Jin hate me now? Does she despise me that much?

Lou Yanhui lowered her head, tears tracing paths down her cheeks as she remembered that rainy night two years ago and the girl’s stubborn, desperate questioning.

She had never loved anyone else. It had always been Little Jin.

But for them to be together for a lifetime was not a simple thing. Without sufficient power, she could neither control her own destiny nor protect her beloved.

And power required sacrifice.

Getting close to Hua Yuhu—the most pampered son of the Huamu Clan—had been the most efficient way to secure the clan’s military support. At the time, Lou Yanhui had been isolated and weak. She wasn’t even sure if her coup would succeed. She had chosen to distance herself from Little Jin, hoping to keep her far away from the blood-stained power struggles of the Western Regions’ royalty.

Everything had gone according to plan. Because of her status as a Princess of the Kingdom of Luo and Lou Yanhui’s calculated coldness, the enemies had ignored the girl entirely.

It was all progressing exactly as Lou Yanhui hoped, until…

The night before Luo Yunjin decided to leave the Western Regions.

It was the night of the first victory banquet, marking the moment Lou Yanhui had consolidated her initial power base. The young girl had approached her, eyes misty with tears, asking if she had ever truly loved her. She asked if Lou Yanhui had ever truly considered a future for the two of them.

Every answer in Lou Yanhui’s heart was “yes,” but she couldn’t say it.

Because Hua Yuhu—the pawn she relied on most—was standing right beside her.

A thousand emotions warred in her eyes, but in the end, she only said: “You’re drunk. Go back and get some rest.”

That single sentence was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

The grief in Luo Yunjin’s eyes had made Lou Yanhui’s own eyes sting. Fearing she would lose control and reveal her true feelings, she had turned away decisively, escaping the girl’s gaze and briefly abandoning her own heart.

But throughout the banquet, the girl’s sorrowful, aggrieved expression haunted her.

Once the guests were handled, Lou Yanhui had slipped into the girl’s quarters. She spent the entire walk debating whether to explain everything now or wait until the dust had finally settled.

She was terrified of failing. She was terrified of dragging Luo Yunjin down with her into the abyss.

In her hesitation, she never found the courage to speak.

Ultimately, she had stood outside Luo Yunjin’s window in the pouring rain until the early morning hours, only to turn and leave in silence.

She hadn’t noticed that the moment she turned to walk away, the cracked-open window had been pulled shut without a sound.

Divided by a single wall, two heartbroken people drifted further apart because of a single decision.

By the time she went to find Luo Yunjin again, the room was empty. Only a letter remained on the table, a silent testament to the owner’s feelings.

The letter said she hoped Lou Yanhui would be well. She hoped Lou Yanhui would get everything she ever wanted.

Holding that letter, Lou Yanhui hadn’t known what to feel. Little Jin had left her with nothing but blessings, not breathing a single word about the promise they once shared.

But what Lou Yanhui wanted—what she had wanted from the very beginning—was only Luo Yunjin. Only her Little Jin.

Yet… she needed power. she needed to climb higher to truly claim what she desired. Otherwise, love without the support of power was nothing more than a palace in the clouds, a castle on a sandy beach—destined to crumble into ruins sooner or later.