Chapter One: The First Encounter

Chapter Two: First Encounter

The world was divided into four kingdoms: Eastling, South Yue, West Yuan, and North Snow. Eastling stood above the rest, its prestige unmatched among the four. The Emperor of Eastling, Zhong Aotian, had ascended the throne five years prior and was known as the Emperor of Harmony. In these five years, Eastling had enjoyed favorable weather and bountiful harvests; the land was at peace and the people prospered. The capital city remained ever resplendent, brimming with the vitality of spring, its citizens leading tranquil and contented lives.

As dusk approached, on a mountain road several miles from the capital, silence reigned. The sun hung low, signaling the end of another day. Suddenly, a carriage rushed along the quiet path—a jarring presence on such a deserted road. As it sped by, something flew out of the carriage. With a resounding thud, it hit the ground. Before one could discern what had fallen, the carriage had already disappeared into the distance.

A sharp cry pierced the silence—a little girl’s voice, no more than four or five years old. She looked around, her gaze sweeping the empty road. No one was in sight. The only sounds were the rustling leaves, stirred by the wind. She glanced at the setting sun and thought bitterly how heartless these people were, to abandon her so. Yet her face showed no trace of fear; instead, it was calm and untroubled, as if she had not been cast aside but had come out for a stroll.

She tried to stand, but a searing pain shot through her ankle. Her foot was injured—she had been too careless. As she was brooding over her predicament, a distant figure emerged, moving swiftly in her direction. Soon, she could see him clearly—a boy of about ten, striking in appearance, with deep-set eyes, a straight nose, thin lips, and a solemn expression that made him seem far older than his years. When he noticed the little girl sitting by the roadside, his brows furrowed slightly.

“Why are you here all alone?” the boy asked, his voice pleasant. Judging by her attire, she must be from a wealthy family; her presence in such a place was indeed odd.

She lifted her head, her bright eyes glistening as she gazed at him, a flicker of cunning quickly hidden from view.

“I don’t know either. I was asleep, and when I woke up, I was here. Can you take me home?” she asked, her eyes wide with expectation.

The boy frowned. Clearly, this was no simple matter. Should he involve himself in such trouble? But faced with the innocent little girl, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse. He sighed and asked, “Where is your home?”

“In the capital. Just take me to Poplar Alley and that will be enough.”

The boy was stunned. The capital was dozens of miles away; even by carriage, the journey would take two hours. Whoever had left her here clearly meant for her not to survive. An unexplainable anger surged within him at such cruelty. Looking at her pure little face, he felt a sudden urge to protect her.

“Come, I’ll take you back. Let’s see if there’s a household nearby where we can hire a carriage,” he said gently.

The girl’s face lit up with delight. She tried to stand, but a sharp pain shot through her foot, making her cry out. The boy knelt down, rolled up her trouser leg, and saw her ankle was badly swollen. He sighed deeply; it seemed he had truly taken on a burden. He withdrew a small porcelain bottle from his robe, uncorked it, and poured a clear liquid over the swelling. Gently, he massaged the medicine in. The coolness soothed her pain, easing it considerably. She tried again to stand, but for a child of four or five with such an injury, walking was impossible.

Seeing her struggle, the boy’s resolve softened. Turning his back to her, he said, “I’ll carry you.”

She looked at his small shoulders, wondering if he could bear her weight—after all, he wasn’t much older than she was. She hesitated.

“Hurry up. If we don’t leave now, night will fall,” he urged impatiently, unaware of her concerns. He practiced martial arts, so carrying a child was no trouble at all. The girl glanced up at the darkening sky; he was right. She climbed onto his back, and with practiced ease, he lifted her.

Resting on his back, she caught the scent of his sweat, which for some reason made her feel inexplicably safe. Sweat was not always unpleasant, she mused. It was the first time in her life a boy had carried her; the sensation was unexpectedly comforting, solid, and warm. Perhaps she was exhausted, or perhaps he was simply too comfortable a bearer, but soon she dozed off as they traveled.

When the boy finally found a carriage and set her down, he realized she was fast asleep. He was not a talkative person, and the journey had passed in silence. He had thought to himself that at least she was quiet and not as noisy as other girls he had met, only to discover she had simply fallen asleep—both amusing and exasperating. He had carried her so far, and she slept as if it were only natural. He considered waking her, but seeing the fatigue on her delicate face, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. This child, abandoned at such a young age, did not cry or fuss—no small feat. For one so young, accustomed to comfort, to handle adversity so calmly was remarkable. Watching her sleep, he felt an unexpected tenderness blossom within him.

“Drive on,” he instructed the coachman softly, lowering the curtain. He removed his outer robe, spread it over the carriage seat, and gently laid the girl down before settling himself nearby to meditate.

After about an hour, the girl awoke to the sight of the boy’s handsome face, his eyes closed as he leaned indolently against the carriage wall, so still that he hadn’t noticed her awakening. Glancing down, she found herself lying on his coat. A gentle warmth rose in her heart, soft and comforting. She gazed at him, momentarily forgetting her recent ordeal. Perhaps sensing her attention, the boy opened his eyes.

“My name is Zhan Yan. What’s yours?” she asked softly.

“Zhongli Yu,” he replied after a pause, just as she thought he might not answer.

“Ten years from now, if you are still unmarried, and I am still unwed, will you marry me?” Zhan Yan blurted out, not knowing why she said it, her eyes shining with a seriousness beyond her years.

Zhongli Yu was stunned, looking in astonishment at the little girl—her fair face, bright eyes, arched brows, small straight nose, and rosy lips, each feature seemingly crafted by a master. One could only imagine the beauty she would grow into. But this child, after meeting him only once, was already proposing a lifelong commitment? What if someone else had found her today—would she have made the same promise? The thought made his heart tighten with inexplicable irritation. Seeing her earnest expression, he found himself unable to refuse, and almost against his will, he murmured, “All right.”