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On the very day Qi Yin attended the new Emperor’s coronation in the palace, Shen Xiling finally returned to Jiankang and to Fenghe Garden.
During the military revolt in early June, Qi Yin hadn’t taken her with him to Xiaoshan but instead left her in Huozhou, assigning Bai Song to protect her. At the time, the situation was chaotic, and Qi Yin, ever cautious, always planned for the worst. He likely feared failure and thus refrained from bringing her until everything was settled.
Shen Xiling naturally understood his reasoning. Moreover, her arrow wound was severe, making travel unsuitable, so she didn’t argue much and agreed. He promised to personally retrieve her from Huozhou after the new Emperor’s enthronement, and she obediently consented. However, unable to endure their separation any longer, she persuaded Bai Song to bring her back to Jiankang once the situation stabilized, intending to surprise him.
Returning to her homeland after five years, though Shen Xiling’s temperament had grown less sensitive than in her childhood, she couldn’t help but feel a swirl of emotions.
From afar on the official road, she glimpsed the gates of Jiankang. In that moment, a flood of past and present washed over her. She remembered passing through these gates countless times. The last time, she thought she’d never return, yet here she was again—like fate itself.
Like a leaf returning to its roots, her heart brimmed with both joy and unease—a feeling often described as homesickness.
The wheels of the carriage rumbled as they entered the city. It was mid-morning, the sun bright and radiant. The morning market bustled with activity; pedestrians moved about, and vendors called out along the streets, their accents familiar. Hearing them stirred something deep within her.
She saw familiar streets, waterways, clothing, hairstyles. As they passed by shops she once managed, she even spotted Yi Lou, looking exactly as she remembered—still vibrant and well-maintained, now under the stewardship of another merchant who had carefully operated it over the years.
Everything remained unchanged.
For some reason, tears welled up in Shen Xiling’s eyes, and her heart rippled. It felt as if all the cicadas of Jiankang’s summer were buzzing together, unsettling her. Yet, when Bai Song finally stopped the carriage at the foot of Qingji Mountain, her heart suddenly calmed. All noise faded, leaving an eerie stillness, as if she were in a dream.
Yes, a dream.
Over these five years, she had dreamed of Fenghe Garden countless times—the hundred and eight stone steps winding up the mountain, the lush bamboo shadows, even the scent of grass along the mountain path—all vivid in her memory, not the least bit unfamiliar.
Staring at the scene before her, Shen Xiling couldn’t help but feel dazed. Then she heard Bai Song beside her say, “We’re home.”
Startled, her heart stirred.
Yes… this was her home.
Under the vast sky and across the expansive land, she could settle anywhere, but only here… was her true home.
Her eyes grew moist.
Step by step, Shen Xiling ascended the mountain’s stone steps, turning several times before finally reaching Fenghe Garden’s gate. It was still the same as before—white walls and gray tiles, two lanterns hanging at the entrance, the calligraphy on the lintel unchanged. Everything was identical to ten years ago.
However, the gatekeeper who opened the door after she knocked was unfamiliar. Seeing her, he seemed hesitant to let her in, likely intending to turn away this stranger. Only upon seeing Bai Song behind her did he lower his guard.
Bai Song instructed him to let Shen Xiling in, but the gatekeeper hesitated, saying, “White Brother, don’t make things difficult for me… Fenghe Garden has always been off-limits to outsiders.”
His words stirred Shen Xiling’s memories, recalling the snowy night ten years ago when she first arrived at Fenghe Garden. Back then, the gatekeeper had said the same. Bai Song chuckled, his expression mirroring Shen Xiling’s nostalgia.
Sighing, he told the gatekeeper, “She’s not an outsider. The Master won’t blame you.”
Still reluctant, the young gatekeeper hesitated. After Bai Song reassured him several times, he reluctantly allowed Shen Xiling to enter. Finally, Fenghe Garden unfolded before her eyes.
The seasonal flowers, the exquisite gardens, the elegant pavilions, the winding paths—all were exactly as she remembered.
It was as if time had reversed, and she had returned to those peaceful, enchanting days of the past.
Familiarity led her unconsciously to her own courtyard, Woyu. Before entering, she noticed the lush grapevines in the courtyard. Before she could process her emotions, a faint mewing sound caught her attention.
Looking down, she saw the courtyard door slightly ajar, and a small white ball of fluff wobbled out. About one or two months old, it had stunning blue cat eyes—reminding her of her Snowball.
As she hesitated whether to pick it up, a voice from inside called out, “Little White! Are you a cat or a monkey? Why are you so mischievous every day! Come back here, you—”
Out ran Zijun.
Seeing Shen Xiling, she froze in disbelief, momentarily forgetting the cat.
Fortunately, the kitten didn’t run far, instead circling Shen Xiling’s feet affectionately, lying down to expose its belly.
Smiling, Shen Xiling bent down to pick it up, then looked at Zijun, saying, “Zijun Sister… it’s been so long.”
“It’s been so long.”
Zijun, still stunned, murmured, “Miss…”
“Miss.”
This title made Shen Xiling even more disoriented… Yes, she shouldn’t be called “Madam,” but “Miss.”
She had returned. She had found the familiar faces.
Zijun finally snapped out of her daze and rushed toward Shen Xiling, hugging her and sobbing loudly, repeatedly calling, “Miss, Miss… you’ve come back, you’ve finally come back…”
The commotion startled the kitten in Shen Xiling’s arms and drew others from the courtyard.
It was Shuipei.
She had intended to scold Zijun for the noise, but upon seeing Shen Xiling, she reacted similarly, crying uncontrollably. Everyone trembled with emotion.
Smiling through her tears, Shen Xiling wiped her eyes and said, “Let’s go inside… let’s take a look.”
They entered the house together, and everything was just as Shen Xiling remembered—nothing had changed.
The windows were clean, not at all like a place abandoned for years. Many items from her departure remained in place: hairpins and cosmetics on the dressing table, a small embroidered quilt neatly folded on the bed, even the book she had been reading before being arrested by soldiers still lay on the desk, the pages stopped where she had left off.
Everything was perfectly preserved.
Shuipei continued to cry, explaining between sobs that after Shen Xiling left, Master rarely returned to Fenghe Garden. Yet, he always instructed them to care for Woyu, ensuring nothing changed. They knew—he was waiting for her return.
Even though he didn’t know if she would ever come back.
Shen Xiling’s tears flowed more freely. At that moment, a familiar meow sounded… from her bed.
She peeked over… and saw Snowball.
Still snow-white, but much larger now, sprawled lazily on the soft bed, its fluffy tail swaying gently, no longer as energetic as before.
Eleven years old…
It gazed at her, wary and cautious, likely no longer recognizing her. When she tried to approach, it backed away, retreating a few steps. Sniffing her fingers, it still didn’t remember her.
She truly was an absent owner… gone for so long.
Shen Xiling felt a pang of sadness, yet also joy—she had made it in time to spend more moments with Snowball.
That was enough.
Shuipei, always thoughtful, noticed Shen Xiling’s slight disappointment at Snowball’s lack of recognition. To cheer her up, she shared a piece of good news: Fengchang had married Liu Zi, and they had a child—a lovely baby girl.
Shen Xiling was delighted and asked where they were. Zijun eagerly replied they still lived in Fenghe Garden, but today Fengchang had gone out shopping with Liu Zi. They would likely return soon.
How wonderful.
The sense of fulfillment in Shen Xiling’s heart grew stronger: Shuipei, Fengchang, Zijun, Liu Zi, and Snowball… everything in her memory remained intact, sustaining a sweet dream, continuing its beauty.
The only absence was… Qingzhu.
Shen Xiling fell silent for a moment, then turned toward the direction of the rear mountain.
Qingzhu… you will always be with us.
Shen Xiling went to the rear mountain with everyone.
Cherry trees covered the hills, currently quiet after the blooming season, but they would burst into beautiful blossoms come spring. Especially in March, during Qingji Mountain’s flower festival, the area would be lively and vibrant.
A perfect resting place.
Shen Xiling chose this spot for Qingzhu’s grave.
Bai Song personally buried him beneath a tall cherry tree, surrounded by flowing streams and birdsong.
Throughout the process, he remained silent—digging the soil, placing the coffin, standing solemnly with others, silently watching as others shed tears.
He didn’t appear overly emotional, but the scar between his eyebrows seemed deeper, perhaps due to his unconscious frown.
Seeing this, Shen Xiling recalled Qi Yin’s restrained and subdued reaction when he learned of Qingzhu’s death upon waking from his illness in early June. Though controlled, sorrow lingered in his eyes.
She knew—they had all considered him family.
Lost in thought, Shen Xiling’s vision blurred, and the green shade seemed to transform into bamboo shadows. The departed figure vaguely returned to his ten-year-old self—mature beyond his years, stern yet unexpectedly endearing in his occasional confusion and soft-heartedness.
He seemed to step out of the bamboo shadows, telling them:
Don’t grieve too much. I have returned home, and from now on, I have no regrets.
After enduring numerous trials over recent months and the arduous journey from Huozhou back to Jiankang, Shen Xiling was exhausted. Without the energy to eat lunch, she wanted to rest.
Shuipei and the others were overjoyed, agreeing to whatever she said. One prepared fresh bedding, while another headed to the kitchen to prepare a lavish welcome feast. This warm atmosphere comforted Shen Xiling, and she let them fuss over her. Lying in her familiar room, she felt an inexplicable ease and soon drifted off to sleep.
She didn’t know how long she slept—perhaps only a short while, perhaps several hours. When she woke, Qi Yin was already there, sitting by her bedside.
He sat beside her, holding a book, while she realized she was sleeping sideways, somehow resting her head on his lap. Initially, he hadn’t noticed she was awake, still engrossed in his book. When she moved slightly, he set the book aside and looked down at her, his eyes filled with restrained warmth.
His voice was gentle: “Awake?”
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