Chapter Three: A Waning Moon Hangs Among Sparse Parasol Trees

"By the way, I still don’t know your name," Mingchu sniffled, gently shaking his arm.

"I... don’t have a name," he lowered his eyes, the events of yesterday already buried.

"Would you like me to give you one?" Laughter gathered in Mingchu’s eyes.

The young man looked up, his gaze bewildered yet full of joy. Eight years ago, he became a person without a name; eight years later, this little girl stood before him, ready to bestow a new name.

Did this mean he could finally bid farewell to everything in his past? He curved his lips in a smile and nodded.

Mingchu opened the door, and he followed to drape a cloak over her shoulders. The air was thick with moisture; dew dripped from withered grass beneath the courtyard wall, and a single paulownia tree stood in the southwest corner, its leaves quivering in the cold wind.

A crescent moon hung crookedly over the tree, as if the ground were covered in frosty silver.

Mingchu paced, her chin resting on her palm, "Mother loved Su Zizhan’s line best: ‘A waning moon hangs on sparse paulownias, as the water clock runs dry, the world falls silent.’"

He listened carefully, a rare nervousness stirring in his heart.

Mingchu clapped her hands, "Tonight’s scene—paulownia leaves rustling, a bright moon shining. Why not call you Yuewu?"

"Yuewu, Yuewu, my name..." He repeated the two syllables, savoring their sound. They were beautiful.

His smile blossomed, reaching his eyes, and even his pallid cheeks flushed with warmth. His already handsome features gained a gentle grace, as if a breeze slipped through his sleeves, the moonlight cradled in his arms, leaving one entranced.

"You are Yuewu, and I am Mingchu. We’ll be together forever," Mingchu hooked her pinky finger with his.

"A promise is a promise, no one can break it."

Yuewu etched this night into his heart, into the name Yuewu.

And Mingchu forever remembered Yuewu’s song, and the vow they made.

After winter arrived, warm days were rare. Sunlight streamed through green gauze windows, illuminating dust motes in the air. A beam lingered on Mingchu’s face.

"Hot!" Mingchu kicked off the quilt from her bed, murmured, and woke.

She rubbed her eyes, slipped on her shoes, and smiled crookedly in the flood of sunlight, "It’s a glorious day!"

Yuewu, broom in hand, walked to the gauze window, his eyes curved into a smile, "Miss is awake." Today he wore the simple garb of a household servant.

Mingchu yawned and stepped outside. She beamed as she dashed over, "Did you sleep well last night? Oh, Nanny’s calling me to wash up."

Yuewu pressed his lips in a gentle smile; he hadn’t slept at all last night. When the first light crept over the horizon, he was already standing guard outside Mingchu’s door.

When the sun rose above the mountains, the sky was painted with tipsy orange, then fire-red spreading like a flame, a vast, splendid dawn bursting forth.

The sun rose slowly, and warmth settled around him, thawing his heart.

He let himself sink into this tranquil, carefree moment. His past was filled with calculation and killing, inescapable, sinking into the abyss. His gaze dimmed, turning toward the window.

Mingchu was sleeping soundly, sometimes mumbling indistinct words, sometimes smiling happily—who knew what she dreamed of? Watching her smile, he couldn’t help but smile himself.

Mingchu went to wash up, and the cat, Duofu, mewed, leaping onto the steps to bask in the sun. Yuewu wandered the courtyard; the orchids beneath the wall were wilting in the cold wind, and icicles beneath the eaves still glistened in the sunlight.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. "Creak." Yuewu opened it.

Steward Li Chang nodded slightly to Yuewu, leading several servants carrying boxes inside.

Li Chang was barely thirty, young but prudent, a trusted aide to Prince Jiang.

Mingchu heard the commotion and ran out. Li Chang had already instructed the servants to set down the boxes.

"Fifth Miss, I am Li Chang, steward of the royal residence. These three boxes contain clothes, jewelry and cosmetics, and calligraphy and paintings. They are gifts for you. Please accept them."

Li Chang bent slightly, his expression steady.

Mingchu was momentarily bewildered—what did all these gifts mean, arriving so suddenly?

She was used to being overlooked. Nanny hurriedly pushed her from behind, "Quick, thank him!"

Mingchu snapped back to herself, "Thank you, Steward Li."

Li Chang nodded, "One more thing: His Highness said that after the Lantern Festival, you’ll be attending the private academy in the residence as well."

After Li Chang and his men left, Mingchu circled the boxes, occasionally kicking one.

Nanny opened them one by one, her rough hands caressing the dresses and jewelry Mingchu had never owned, saying with relief, "Fifth Miss, the prince finally values you."

"Sigh!" Mingchu sat under the paulownia tree, her chin propped in her palm, not as happy as Nanny.

Yuewu glanced at the dresses in the boxes, imagining Mingchu wearing them; her little sigh interrupted his thoughts.

"Why are you sighing, Miss?"

Mingchu fiddled with her fingers, sulky.

She sighed again, "Last time I barged into Qianyi Pavilion, I remember Father telling me, ‘The matter between your mother and me shouldn’t be taken out on you.’ Is that why this sudden... But what really happened between Father and Mother?"

Mingchu hung her head, her voice low. "After Mother passed away, in the prince’s residence, aside from Nanny, no one cared about me, no one liked me. I was often bullied by Jiang Zhenyuan. I’ve slowly gotten used to days like these."

Yuewu squatted before her, earnest, "Yuewu’s favorite person is you, Miss. You’re the best girl in the world."

Mingchu looked up abruptly; a paulownia leaf drifted quietly down. Yuewu’s eyes were gentle as spring water, and within that gentleness, she found peace.

At dusk, Prince Jiang was in his study handling official matters, leaning over a desk piled with military books, dozens of precious inkstones, and various brush holders.

Lady Wang’s personal maid, Lushang, requested an audience.

She bowed gracefully, "My lady asks that you attend the Lantern Night banquet at Yuheng Pavilion as soon as possible."

"Very well, I’ll come at once." His severe face broke into a rare smile. In past years, turmoil at the border, constant invasions by the Jiehu, unending battles, and soldiers perpetually on alert—even during the Lantern Festival, all he could do was send a letter home.

It wasn’t until last year, when the elite forces of Yan launched three campaigns deep into enemy territory, breaking up the Jiehu tribes, that peace finally settled on the border. He could return to the capital and reunite with his family, leaving only his eldest son Zhenning to guard the frontier.