Chapter Eight: No Farewell Awaits on This Journey

When Rong Jiu arrived at the city tower in her bright red wedding dress, the King and Queen of Xining were already waiting for her. Below the tower, besides Mo Ningshu leading the bridal procession, the citizens of Xining crowded the streets, eager to witness the farewell.

“Jiu’er, come here quickly,” the Queen called, beckoning her to her side. Both the King and Queen wore formal attire befitting the occasion, though their faces looked weary, as if they had aged overnight.

“Father, Mother,” Rong Jiu greeted them respectfully.

“Jiu’er, the journey ahead is long. You must take care of yourself. When you arrive, behave well, don’t be as mischievous as you were in Xining. There, you will have no father or mother to protect you,” the King said, gently stroking her delicate face, his voice filled with reluctance.

“Father, rest assured—I will never bring shame to Xining.”

“Yes, I know. Our Jiu’er is always the pride of our family,” he replied, nodding with satisfaction.

“Jiu’er, remember to protect yourself. If you suffer any grievance, write to me. I will stand up for you,” her mother said, holding back tears.

A married daughter is like water poured out—once she enters her husband’s home, even if she is wronged, her family cannot intervene. Rong Jiu knew this well, but hearing her mother say it still moved her. No matter what happened, there would always be someone thinking of her.

After a few more words, the three embraced, unable to hide their sorrow.

“Your Majesty, it’s getting late. The princess should depart,” Mo Ningshu called from below.

“Alright, Jiu’er, go now. Take care of yourself. I have already sent a letter to the ruler of Youzhou. You are still young—spend half a year there, and when you come of age next year, you’ll marry. Don’t worry, your elder brothers will accompany you. When your wedding is over, they will return,” the King said, holding her hand, reluctant to let go.

“Jiu’er, if you encounter difficulties in Youzhou, seek out the Imperial Dowager. She is your aunt, after all, and she will not let you suffer,” the Queen wiped away her tears. Usually seen as a composed and formidable woman, now she was just a mother watching her daughter leave home.

Rong Jiu did not look back, afraid that if she did, she would not be able to leave. She was grateful to be here, but she understood—the more one received, the more one stood to lose; partings are inevitable in life.

Mo Ningshu watched Rong Jiu approach in her red wedding dress. She no longer looked as lively and youthful as before; there was a hint of sorrow and maturity in her expression that made her impossible to ignore.

Rong Jiu passed him by, glancing at him briefly, a complex emotion flickering in her eyes.

Mo Ningshu moved his lips, but in the end, he only watched her walk past, a deep sadness welling inside him.

Perhaps they were always meant to be strangers, just as Rong Le had told him—keeping a distance was best for both.

“Set out!”

Mo Ningshu sighed, mounted his horse, and gave the order. The grand procession began to move forward.

“Farewell, Fifth Princess! May your marriage be harmonious and your life full of happiness!” The ceremonial music started, and the citizens of Xining knelt to send off their beloved princess, tears streaming down many faces.

Rong Jiu sat in the carriage, unable to hold back her sobs any longer.

This departure would have no return.

The majestic kingdom of Xining slowly faded behind her. Crossing the vast grasslands, the city was soon out of sight.

The sky darkened, and the distant sunset foretold the coming night.

After a simple dinner, Rong Jiu found herself unbearably bored. There were no phones or televisions to pass the time. In Xining, she could watch dances and listen to stories, but here, in this godforsaken place, not even a bed was available. She was a princess sent to marry for peace, yet she had to sleep in the wild, with no entertainment to be found.

“Little sister, you’ll have to bear it for one night. There are no homes or inns nearby, so we must camp in the wilderness,” Rong Le said, sitting beside her to comfort her.

“Bear what? I’m just bored,” Rong Jiu replied with a smile. She was not a pampered lady—what was one night outdoors compared to that?

Still, Rong Le felt guilty. His handsome brows furrowed slightly. Her optimism and maturity left him at a loss for words. Truthfully, he wished his sister would be more childish—throw a tantrum, anything.

“Big brother? What are you daydreaming about? I’ve been calling you for ages,” Rong Jiu said, patting his shoulder.

“Ah? Oh, nothing, nothing.” Rong Le smiled awkwardly. “What were you saying?”

“Brother, tell me about my past. I’m bored, anyway.”

“My past? Didn’t Amu tell you?”

“He did, but I want to hear about me and you. Was I very different before?”

Rong Jiu asked, sensing from their looks that everything she said and did seemed unfamiliar to them. She was curious about her predecessor’s life; after all, she was now living it.

“You used to be timid and stubborn,” Rong Le said, a gentle smile appearing as he recalled. “I remember one year, during the hunt, you insisted on joining. Father relented and agreed, but your horse was startled by a beast and ran wild with you. We were all terrified…”

…

The night was silent and unsettling.

Rong Jiu, small and curled up, clung to the crooked tree, her hands gripping the branch tightly. The occasional hoot of an owl made her tremble.

Her pony had vanished, possibly eaten by wild animals. The more she thought, the more frightened she became, so she counted numbers to distract herself.

“One, two, three, four… two hundred forty-seven, two hundred forty-eight…” she whispered. She remembered her father once said that if she ever got lost, she should count, and when she reached one thousand, he would come to take her home.

The night deepened. Even the moon was hidden behind clouds, leaving her in complete darkness. She grew more afraid, peering cautiously around, having lost track of her count.

Without light, her last bit of courage faded. Still, she bit her lip to stop herself from crying, unaware that she had bitten it raw.

Jiu’er is not a crybaby, she thought defiantly. Her brothers always teased her for being timid, but she hadn’t cried this time, even though she was alone.

Thinking this, her fear lessened. She believed in her father’s strength—he would find her. With this hope, she started counting again.

“One, two, three… eight hundred one, eight hundred two…” As she neared one thousand, her heart pounded. Finally, at nine hundred seventy-two, she faintly heard someone calling.

“Jiu’er… Jiu’er…”

It was her brothers!

Rong Jiu laughed with joy—her father had not lied.

The distant flames drew near, and she shouted, “I’m here!”

Nestled in the King of Xining’s warm embrace, her eyes moist, she sniffed and said, “Sorry, Father, for worrying you.” Then she lifted her head proudly, “But I didn’t cry even once, so Jiu’er is not a crybaby!”

Her childish yet stubborn voice made everyone laugh, “Alright, alright, we’ll never call Jiu’er a crybaby again.”

…

“But honestly, I think you’re better now—more mischievous. This way, I won’t have to worry about you being bullied,” Rong Le sighed.

Rong Jiu looked at him; his eyes seemed to darken.

She knew his words were meant to comfort her. Watching his own sister grow up, only to suddenly change into someone else, would be unsettling for anyone, especially since she was not the true owner of this body.

Guilt rose within her as she stared at her feet. If one day they learned she was not truly their sister, would they still treat her so kindly?

“What’s wrong, little sister? Don’t overthink it. No matter how you change, you will always be our sister. We’ll always protect you,” Rong Le said, seeing her dejected and assuming she was sad about her forgotten past, pulling her into his arms to comfort her.

But this sudden, intimate gesture left Rong Jiu flustered. After all, this man was not her real brother, and such closeness felt unnatural. Her face flushed red.

To hide it, she buried her head in his embrace, the warmth tempting her, yet also making her uneasy, as if she had stolen someone else’s most precious thing.

“Brother, don’t worry—no matter where I go, no matter how I change, I will always be your sister,” Rong Jiu said, as if making a promise for the body’s true owner.

The night deepened.

Rong Jiu lay on the soft couch in the carriage. Through the pale blue curtain, she could see her companions gathered around the fire. The crimson glow lit their faces, making her feel warm, yet distant.

The kinder they were to her, the deeper her guilt grew. She felt like a villain, deceiving others’ feelings while shamelessly accepting their affection. Yet she could not let go of this warmth, nor these brothers.

Perhaps those who have been lonely for too long can never return to solitude after tasting warmth.

Rong Jiu thought to herself that she no longer missed her modern life. There was nothing there she could not part with. Here, instead, she found a sense of home, a reason to exist—she was no longer alone.