The afternoon slipped by in a flash.
The spire of the Dome of Knowledge bell tower pierced the twilight. Lillian stood alone at this silent height, her fingertips repeatedly stroking the ring on her left middle finger.
The ring was very simple, nothing more than a smooth Silver Ring. It had no inlaid gemstones or intricate engravings, giving off a lukewarm matte glow under the fading light of the sky.
The sensation against her fingertips brought back memories of the past.
At that time, she had just turned sixteen. The long years of war had finally settled, leaving the Empire scarred and broken, with dark undercurrents surging beneath a seemingly calm surface.
Imperial power had been exhausted through years of conquest, like a frail husk hidden beneath magnificent robes. Countless old and new Nobles—those hyenas who had slunk in the shadows or risen during the war—instantly smelled opportunity. Their eyes were fixed on her, the young Empress whose position was not yet stable.
Suggestions for marriage alliances flew toward her like snowflakes.
She remembered that banquet. The crystal chandeliers refracted a dazzling light. Amidst the fragrance of clothes and the shadows of guests, the gazes cast her way were filled with appraisal and calculation. Their words were gentle and elegant, yet every syllable was like a hook.
She sat upright in the seat of honor, her back straight, but her fingernails dug deep into her palms. Loneliness and invisible pressure almost became tangible amidst the clinking of glasses.
Then, he came.
Her Lord Protector, Jiang Ming. He walked through the crowd with steady steps, as if all the vanity and scheming around him had nothing to do with him. He walked straight to her seat, without casting even a single glance at those wide-eyed Nobles.
Under the focus of countless gazes in the suddenly silent room, he said nothing. He simply took this simplest Silver Ring from his robes and took her slightly cold hand.
His fingertips were warm, but his movements were firm. The Silver Ring was slowly pushed over her knuckle until it reached the base of her finger.
No words were spoken, but in that moment, all the noise, calculation, and probing froze and retreated in the face of this silent action.
His stance was declared then and there; no Noble dared to provoke Jiang Ming in his capacity as the Lord Protector.
The banquet continued, but the air was different. Those whispers about marriage alliances vanished quietly, like spider silk severed by a sharp blade.
For the next hundred years, no one dared to bring up such a topic in front of her again.
The wind brushed past the bell tower, bringing the hum of the distant city. Lillian curled her fingers, gently pressing The Ring against her heart. Beneath the cold metal, her heartbeat was steady and powerful.
Lillian was not stupid. She did not completely believe Jiang Ming’s words, but she had no way of seeing through him.
Just like a hundred years ago, she hadn’t understood him then, either.
Perhaps he still remembered and simply didn’t want to acknowledge it, but that didn’t matter.
The fact that he was here was the best thing in the world.
“The path must be walked slowly,” Lillian murmured.
“That scene in the dining hall,” a voice carrying the cloying sweetness of candy came from behind her, breaking the silence of the heights, “really did stir up quite a storm, my Empress.”
Lillian did not look back; it was Nafi. Chewing on a lollipop, she walked over with casual steps, leaning familiarly against the mottled stone railing to look out with Lillian at the academy where points of light were gradually flickering on.
“I can practically imagine tomorrow’s headline in the Qiongzhi Academy Anecdote Report,” Nafi tilted her head, her Violet eyes sparkling with light. “Shock! Mysterious white-haired beauty publicly declares love in cafeteria; object of affection is actually a plain Outlander freshman! …Tell me, what exactly are you thinking? After a hundred years, has the iron tree finally blossomed? Is your heart fluttering?” Her tone was teasing, but her voice dropped, becoming serious. “Even though his name is also ‘Jiang Ming,’ Lillian, you know he isn’t ‘that’ Lord Protector. Or rather, this is just a saddening case of having the same name.”
As one of the very few people who knew part of the inside story, Nafi’s words were direct and sharp.
Lillian listened quietly, the twilight plating her perfect profile with a soft golden edge. She did not offer a direct rebuttal, nor did she show any sign of being offended. She simply cast her gaze further toward the outlines of buildings sinking into the evening mist.
“Nafi,” she suddenly spoke, her voice sounding a bit faint as it was blown by the wind, “if I asked you to use only two words to summarize ‘Lord Protector Jiang Ming,’ which two words would you use?”
Nafi paused, clearly not expecting the topic to jump so abruptly. She chewed her candy and thought seriously for a moment, the playfulness on her face gradually disappearing.
“Two words, huh…” She licked her lips. “‘Miracle.’”
She paused, then repeated with certainty, “Yes, Miracle. He himself was the most irrational, most dazzling, and most reassuring Miracle in that era where the fires of war never ended and despair spread everywhere. With a mortal body, he performed deeds close to God, overturning too many impossibles.”
This evaluation came from the bottom of her heart, without a hint of exaggeration.
Lillian finally turned her head to look at her friend. In the twilight, her crimson eyes were startlingly bright.
“Then, Nafi…”
“Do you think rising from the dead counts as a kind of… Miracle?”
The wind seemed to stand still at that moment.
Nafi’s Violet pupils suddenly contracted, and her body leaning against the railing tensed slightly. All expressions of jest, worry, and admonishment faded from her face, leaving only shock and disbelief.
She knew that Lillian might joke about anything, but on this one matter, there was not a trace of falsehood.
Lillian’s words fell like a thunderclap into still water. She said no more, turning to walk down the stairs. Her white hair caught the last sliver of light before disappearing into the shadows of the stairwell.
Only Nafi remained at the top of the bell tower.
Nafi looked at a person who had just walked out of the library and murmured under her breath, “Holy hell.”
***
Jiang Ming had been buried in a sea of books all afternoon.
He was immersed in thick historical records and chronicles, his gaze quickly scanning the ink marks of a century of changes.
The rise and fall of the Empire, the establishment of the alliance, the shifting of technology… those background details that had once been blurry in the game were now being rapidly digested and absorbed by him as text.
It wasn’t until the closing announcement sounded that he lifted his head from the piles of paper. Night had already begun to fall outside the window.
The twilight closed in from all sides, and the streetlights began to flicker on.
Jiang Ming stepped down the stone stairs of the library, the crisp, cold air refreshing his spirit. The flood of history that had surged frantically into his mind during the day was still churning, intertwining with the very real sensation of hunger in his stomach to create a strange sort of fatigue.
Jiang Ming looked up at the sky. The night was beautiful, but for Jiang Ming, it felt somewhat unfamiliar.
After all, this was no longer the sky of his hometown.
Just as he was calculating whether to go to his usual affordable restaurant or try a flavor stall with a new sign on the street corner—”Classmate.”
A voice came from behind him, reaching his ears.
“Shall we… head back together?”
Jiang Ming’s footsteps stopped.
He turned his head.
Lillian stood not far away under a newly lit gas streetlight. Her frost-white long hair seemed to carry its own soft glow in the dim yellow halo. She appeared to have just come from somewhere as well, casually carrying a thin volume in her hand. Her posture was relaxed, as if this chance encounter was the most natural thing in the world.
The night wind brushed by, stirring a few strands of her hair.