In the north, where there lay a thousand of li of sealed ice, and ten thousand li of whirling snow[1].0

For Zhao Changhe, whose literary repertoire often failed him when most needed, this time was different. As he galloped through the vast expanse beneath an endless sky, this well-known verse appeared clear in his mind.0

It was partly because the author of the poem was someone he respected. But more than that, it resonated with his mood in this moment, perfectly capturing the grandeur of the world he rode through.1

After every meeting with Tang Wanzhuang, he found his mind inexplicably becoming steadier, regardless of the tension or urgency of his circumstances. She had that kind of calming magic about her.0

In Qinghe and Langya, his travels had been rushed, flitting from place to place as though flying above the clouds without even sparing a glance at the mountains and rivers below. But this time, departing from the capital, though his pace remained swift, his heart felt lighter, at peace. Riding atop Snow-Treading Crow, he found himself with the leisure...0