Chapter 294: Hello Chang'an
Chapter 294: Willing to Journey with Her Highness
Beneath the eaves of the blue-tiled corridor outside the hall, raindrops continued to fall one by one.
The men brought by Cui Jing stood at a distance, merging with the darkness of the night, ensuring that no one could overhear or disturb the conversation taking place within the hall.
Inside, the young woman lowered her gaze to the object within the case. The lamplight wavered softly, and her long lashes cast deep shadows beneath her eyes.
She had not had time to properly bind her hair before setting out; the silk ribbon she’d used had loosened during the ride, and a few strands now fell across her cheeks and ears, veiling her expression.
After a long moment, she reached out and lifted the item from within the case.
It was a sword.
A sword with a name.
The instant her hand closed around the hilt, that long-lost, familiar connection reawakened—stretching across sixteen years of time, linking her and the blade once more.
The weight of the sword had long since merged with her own through countless battles fought side by side. Every nick and scratch upon its gleaming surface bore witness to the bond they had shared through life and death.
Chang Suining held the sword across her body, one hand on the scabbard, the other slowly drawing it halfway out.
The blade gleamed like frost, its edge a perfect mirror—reflecting a pair of eyes that seemed to meet her own from across the years, overlapping until they became one.
We meet again.
Chang Suining spoke these words in her heart—to those familiar eyes, and to the sword named Yaori.
Cui Jing stood silently beside her, watching the reunion between the wielder and her sword. He felt as though drifting rain had finally returned to the sea.
That sword—only in her hand could it truly reveal its radiant brilliance.
Chang Suining slowly slid the blade back into its sheath.
As she came back to herself, she looked toward Cui Jing and asked, “You retrieved it from the Xuanzhe Army headquarters in the capital?”
“Yes,” he replied. “I had another sword forged identical to it and made the exchange.”
Chang Suining gave a quiet ah and said, “Stealing from one’s own guardhouse—so it’s self-thievery.”
Cui Jing smiled faintly. “You could say that.”
“Quite the careful thief,” she said with a hint of amusement. Then, without further pretense, she continued, “Since you’ve gone to such lengths, I’ll accept it.”
With that, she studied the sword again, reluctant to take her eyes off it—like one reunited with an old friend after a long separation.
After a moment, she murmured, “Still, after all those years being worshiped with incense in your headquarters, it may have cultivated a bit of a Buddha’s heart. I wonder if it still wishes to kill beside me.”
Cui Jing said, “As long as it rests in Your Highness’s hand, wherever the edge points, that is where its heart lies.”
Her jest met with such solemnity that she couldn’t help but ask, “Oh? How would you know that—did the sword tell you so?”
Cui Jing nodded, still serious. “Yes. It told me.”
All these years, he had often “spoken” to them—those weapons once imbued with souls by their master. To a man who truly understood, they could still be felt.
At least, that was what he believed.
“Then I’ll take your word for it,” she said lightly, switching the sword from one hand to the other, utterly unwilling to let it go. Her own sword—nothing else could compare.
As she admired it, she asked casually, “If someone recognizes it later, I’ll just say I admired the late Crown Prince so much that I had a copy made—how’s that for an excuse?”
“Perfect,” Cui Jing replied.
Indeed, that was the truth. It was a man who admired the late Crown Prince who had the copy made.
After answering, Cui Jing turned toward the golden-nanmu screen nearby. When he returned from behind it, there was something new in his hands.
He came before her and presented the item with both hands.
“The Wanyue Bow is here as well,” he said. “I return it to Your Highness.”
The tall young man stood upright before her, his deep-blue robe perfectly neat. Though his presence carried innate authority, the way he held the bow had a quiet reverence to it.
Chang Suining looked at the bow for a long moment before saying softly, “You’ve taken good care of it.”
She could tell—it had been used often, yet tended to with utmost care.
Just as he had tended to Yaori, to Liuhuo, to Ah Dian, and to the entire Xuanzhe Army.
He called Ah Dian “Senior,” but in truth, he was the true guardian of them all—the one who had protected everything and everyone within Xuanzhe Mansion with both skill and devotion.
“Cui Jing,” she said gently, “thank you.”
She had long wished to say those words.
“Merely doing my duty,” Cui Jing replied, still holding the bow in both hands.
But she said, “You are right—doing one’s duty.”
“I once said that whoever had the strength to command the Xuanzhe Army would inherit the Wanyue Bow. It is yours now. There is no need to speak of returning it.”
Her eyes met his, steady and bright. “If I wish to reclaim it one day, I will do so with my own strength.”
She smiled slightly. “Until then, it is yours.”
The Wanyue Bow represented not only a weapon but also military authority. The Xuanzhe Army of today was no longer the one from fifteen years ago. She had no right, as she was now, to reclaim it with mere words.
Cui Jing understood—and respected her meaning.
He lowered his hands, holding the bow by his side, and said quietly, “Very well. Then I’ll wait for the day when Your Highness comes to take it back.”
Until that day came, he would safeguard everything for her—just as he had before she returned.
At that moment, the two stood facing each other—one holding Yaori, the other Wanyue—and shared a smile.
“So,” Chang Suining said, “the Yaori Sword came with the Xuanzhe Army to Luoyang? When you told me to wait three days, it was because your men would only arrive in Bianzhou today along with Li Xian, and that’s when you could bring it here?”
“Yes,” Cui Jing admitted.
“Then I wrongly blamed you,” she said with a faint laugh. “I thought you were keeping me in suspense on purpose.”
“Well, perhaps a little,” Cui Jing said honestly. “I could have given it sooner, but I wanted to see your reaction.”
He found her momentary fluster—so unlike her usual composure—strangely fascinating.
“No matter. For the effort you took to replace the sword, I’ll allow you that one bit of mischief.” Chang Suining smiled, cradling the sword as she sat down. “Let’s talk of something else.”
Seeing her delight, Cui Jing’s lips curved in quiet amusement.
As he sat down opposite her, she suddenly asked, “Cui Jing, have we met before?”
She meant in her previous life.
“...I don’t believe so,” he said.
“Truly not?”
“Truly not,” he affirmed more firmly.
Yet in her heart, that odd sense of familiarity lingered.
“Perhaps you were very young then and don’t remember,” she said thoughtfully.
“...”
At the mention of “young,” Cui Jing straightened a little. “Unlikely. I have had a strong memory since childhood.”
“Is that so?” she murmured, half-suspicious he was hiding something. But what could he possibly have to hide? If they had met, so what? They were not enemies.
Her thoughts were interrupted when he suddenly said, somewhat out of nowhere, “Besides, I am not much younger than Your Highness.”
“Oh?” she blinked, puzzled. “Are you?”
“Yes,” he said earnestly. “When Your Highness passed away, you were twenty-three. I, too, am now twenty-three.”
By that reckoning, the years they had each lived were equal.
“Not quite,” she countered. “I lived another year last year.”
“In this life,” she added with a small smile.
“...” Cui Jing fell silent, then said quietly, “Then Your Highness has lived one year longer than I, at most.”
A moment later, he added, “But I was precocious since childhood. My grandfather used to say I matured three years earlier than other children.”
Chang Suining was startled. It was the first time she had ever heard Cui Jing “boast,” and beneath that boast, there was a rare touch of calculation.
So… he meant to add three more years on top of his age?
Unwilling to lose, she said, “To tell you the truth, my teacher once said the same of me—that I, too, was far more precocious than ordinary children.”
Then, with an air of authority, she added, “My teacher is Grand Tutor Zhu. He is a most exacting man, rarely praises anyone—you must have heard of him?”
“…” Cui Jing was at a complete loss for words.
Seeing him defeated, Chang Suining realized she had let her competitiveness get the better of her and cleared her throat softly. “I never meant to compare our ages or force you to call me Elder Sister. Why must you mind this year or half-year of difference?”
Cui Jing composed himself. “...Let us not speak of it.”
In any case, he truly wasn’t much younger than her.
He repeated that to himself once more.
Chang Suining then let the odd topic drop and asked casually, “Tell me, are you not afraid of me at all? I mean, are you not afraid of ghosts?”
Cui Jing shook his head. “I am not Wei Shuyi.”
Chang Suining muttered, “...So the matter of Minister Wei’s fear of ghosts is common knowledge, then.”
Cui Jing said again, “Besides, in my eyes, Your Highness is simply Your Highness.”
She was who she was, and there was no need to equate her with any other identity.
And he had long been prepared—perhaps even hoped for this. For surely, no one would fear a soul they had yearned so long to see return.
Chang Suining seemed to think of the same thing—of what Wu Jue had once told her.
Cui Jing was the one who had brought about her rebirth, the one who retrieved the jade of the goddess statue for her.
“The matter of the Celestial Maiden Tower—I owe you my thanks.” Her words held a double meaning, for it referred both to the completion of the statue and to his daring act of breaking the formation for her.
Together with Wu Jue, he had guided her return. And when he realized she had come back, he had chosen, without hesitation, to stand by her side, helping her conceal the secret she wished to keep.
Cui Jing understood. “There is no need for thanks. Since I accepted this duty, I must see it through to the end.”
Before she returned, he had already been guarding “her.”
It had been so before, it was so now, and it would be so ever after. That was his mission—or perhaps his fate. He had never believed in fate, save for this one, which he accepted willingly, devoutly, and would follow all his life.
After a pause, he spoke solemnly, “The road ahead for Your Highness is full of thorns. I wish to go with you—to wield my sword and help clear the way ahead.”
Chang Suining looked at him. “Cui Jing, do you even know where I am headed?”
Cui Jing turned his head toward her. “Wherever it may be.”
“And if, in the end, it turns out to be a dead end?”
“Then all the more reason to go together,” he said. “Only then might we turn it into a living path.”
If the road were all flowers and splendor, he would not need to interfere with her admiring them.
It was precisely because the road ahead was perilous, because she should not bear the burden of the world alone, that he dared to ask to accompany her.
Chang Suining held the sword in her arms, gazing quietly at him, as if lost in thought.
“I know what path Your Highness guards,” he said softly. “This is not to aid you, but because it is the very same path I wish to guard. I may not be gifted, but I can promise this much—I will never be your burden. Just follow your heart and move forward; do not look back. I will always be right behind you.”
“The Grand General of the Xuanzhe Army, a burden? Hardly.” Chang Suining smiled faintly. “I should thank you for thinking so highly of me.”
Cui Jing said nothing—just looked at her.
She still had not given him a clear answer.
Chang Suining did not resort to polite evasions, but said plainly, “You are an excellent partner. I would be fortunate to have you travel with me, but I need some time to think.”
He was capable, upright, and honest—and most importantly, as he said, his heart’s will was the same as hers. She had sensed that long ago.
Such a rare man—by rights, she should do everything in her power to draw him to her side. Yet she had a concern she could not yet overlook, one that made her pause.
Cui Jing could guess what that concern was, but he did not press. He only nodded. “Very well. Take your time. I am in no hurry.”
Hearing this, Chang Suining smiled, feeling at ease. To speak with a true gentleman such as he was a comfort in itself.
Whatever the future held—whether they walked the same road or not—she would always regard him as a most special friend.
“I have another question,” she said.
Cui Jing replied, “Please, ask.”
“Wu Jue told me that in the matter of the Celestial Maiden Tower, you were a crucial part of the fate that brought me back,” said Chang Suining. “Did that fate give you any special ability?”
Cui Jing frowned slightly.
“For example… is there any sort of connection or sense between you and me?”
Cui Jing thought seriously, then shook his head. “This fate is mysterious, but it has no tangible manifestation.”
Seeing no trace of concealment in his manner, Chang Suining felt greatly relieved. She had feared that someone might be able to read her thoughts—or that, like Wu Jue, he might have paid some heavy price for her rebirth.
Still, she added, “That formation was an evil one. If you ever feel anything strange in the future, tell me at once. We’ll find a way to solve it together.”
Sensing her intent to take responsibility, Cui Jing smiled. “Very well. I’ll remember that.”
At that moment, faint sounds stirred in the corridor outside.
Cui Jing turned his head toward the doorway. “There is one more thing tonight—something that must be returned to you. I suspect you will not be able to refuse it.”
Chang Suining looked in the same direction, then rose, sensing what it might be.
Cui Jing stood as well. “Come. Let us go and see.”
Good night, and pleasant dreams.
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