She should have been Princess Changle, sent to the grasslands for a marriage alliance, but on the way to the wedding she fell off a cliff. When she opened her eyes again, she had no idea whose body this was. At the market, a human trafficker pushed her onto a wooden platform to sell her. She was covered in wounds, trembling like a sparrow at the onset of winter. The crowd parted, and a young man in black walked through the sunset, buying an entire destined spring with ten taels of silver. He washed her clothes and cooked for her, helped her bathe and apply medicine, carried her up the long mountain paths. Beneath the daily necessities flowed a swelling spring tide; coarse earthen bowls brimmed with the young man’s deep affection. The spring of the mountain wilds is overflowing. “Fu Zheng.” “Mm?” “Let’s go home now.”