The sun was high when Tang Peiyi strode into the courtyard where Xie Zheng resided. The personal guard stationed outside stopped him, saying, "General Tang, the Marquis drank heavily last night and has not yet risen."
Tang Peiyi found this strange. Xie Zheng was famously known in the army for his vast capacity for alcohol, and he hadn’t drunk much the previous night. How could he be drunk?
Though inwardly skeptical, Tang Peiyi clasped his fists and said, "I came because my subordinates reported that Young Master Li seems to have left without notice, returning to the capital early. It struck me as odd, so I came to discuss the matter with the Marquis."
Though a rough man, Tang Peiyi was well aware of the power struggle between the Li and Wei factions in court. Li Huaian’s sudden departure, even skipping last night’s victory banquet, surely meant something was amiss.
Now in command of the troops in Chongzhou and Jizhou, he knew that taking a misstep—whether leaning toward the Li or Wei faction—could spell disaster.
Rather than hastily choosing sides, it was wiser to first show goodwill to the Wu'an Marquis, who remained neutral.
For one, the Wu'an Marquis was, in a way, his superior.
Secondly, compared to those civil officials who knew nothing of the hardships at the frontlines, he felt the Wu'an Marquis, also a military man, would better understand the plight of his soldiers.
The guard outside the courtyard listened to Tang Peiyi’s purpose and replied, "General Tang, please return and wait for a while. Once the Marquis rises, we will inform him."
Tang Peiyi nodded and turned to leave, only to run into Xie Wu carrying a stack of neatly folded clean clothes. Recognizing him, Tang Peiyi called out, "Aren’t you Captain Fan’s personal guard? What are you doing here?"
Xie Wu stiffened slightly and hastily lied, "The captain drank too much last night and is resting in the west wing. I... I’m bringing him a change of clothes."
Tang Peiyi frowned. "The west wing is that way. You’re heading toward the east wing."
Xie Wu forced a reply, "My apologies, I’m unfamiliar with the estate’s layout and took a wrong turn."
Tang Peiyi waved him off. "Fine, fine. Hurry and deliver those to Captain Fan."
Xie Wu could only turn around and head toward the west wing with the fresh set of clothes.
As Tang Peiyi passed through an arched gate, he encountered Zheng Wenchang, who saluted him with clasped fists. "Greetings, sir."
The previous night, Zheng Wenchang had drunk heavily on Fan Changyu’s behalf and eventually collapsed at the banquet, so the servants had temporarily lodged him in one of the estate’s side rooms.
Tang Peiyi nodded. "Wen Chang, just risen as well?"
Zheng Wenchang replied sheepishly, "I overslept due to the drink."
Tang Peiyi had yet to eat breakfast that morning, having rushed to see Xie Zheng after receiving the report. Now heading to dine, he invited Zheng Wenchang, "Have you eaten? If not, join me."
Zheng Wenchang said, "I already ate in the west wing."
Tang Peiyi chuckled. "What a coincidence. I heard Captain Fan was also lodged there."
Zheng Wenchang frowned. "The west wing has twelve rooms, all occupied by generals from the Tiger Might Battalion. Captain Fan isn’t there."
Tang Peiyi recalled Xie Wu carrying clean clothes toward Xie Zheng’s courtyard, then thought of Xie Zheng’s unusual decision the night before. His expression shifted dramatically.
Zheng Wenchang, seeing Tang Peiyi silent for a long moment, asked again, "General Tang, perhaps you misheard?"
Finally, Tang Peiyi muttered, "I must have been mistaken."A breeze from nowhere stirred the gauze curtains, filling the room with a warm and pleasant fragrance.
Fan Changyu was pressed into the bedding, her breath stolen by the fierce and relentless kiss.
Amidst the faint metallic tang of blood in the air was his distinct, crisp scent—like morning frost carried from the northern lands.
What had begun as an impulsive kiss had long since taken on a different flavor.
Xie Zheng’s breathing had grown heavy, no longer content with merely tasting her lips. One hand cupped her jaw as his mouth trailed from the corner of her lips to her chin, then further down the delicate column of her throat.
Changyu’s neck was sensitive—perhaps because it was the most vulnerable part of the body—and she trembled uncontrollably.
Xie Zheng’s lips pressed against the thin, delicate skin of her throat, where he could almost feel the pulse of blood beneath. His eyes darkened, a sharp ache rising in his teeth as an overwhelming urge to bite seized him. He nipped at the tender flesh, sucking hard until a red mark bloomed before finally releasing her.
Changyu was dazed from the kisses, her entire body burning. But when a large hand slipped beneath her loosened collar and brushed against the three-inch scar on her abdomen, she jolted awake, shoving Xie Zheng away and hastily clutching her clothes tighter.
Xie Zheng, momentarily stunned by the push, asked after a beat, "Did you get this in the battle at Lucheng?"
Changyu nodded silently.
The scar was long, stretching from above her navel to the left side of her waist. Though most of the scab had fallen away, the mark remained stark—its twisted, centipede-like shape standing out against her skin.
She hadn’t paid it much mind before, but the moment Xie Zheng’s palm touched it, she had reflexively pushed him away. She couldn’t explain why—she just didn’t want him to see it.
The heat in Xie Zheng’s eyes had completely faded. He studied her quietly before saying, "Let me see."
When he had visited her before, her wounds were already bandaged. He knew she had been injured in the abdomen, but not how severe it was.
Changyu shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, lowering her eyes. "Every soldier has scars. There’s nothing special about it."
She reached to retie her collar, changing the subject. "I’m a bit hungry—wonder if the kitchen still has any food left—"
Her hands were caught mid-motion as Xie Zheng repeated firmly, "Let me see."
After a long silence, Changyu finally released her grip on the sash.
Fine. Even if she could hide it now, she couldn’t keep it from him forever.
The deep red military robe slid down to her elbows, hanging loosely around her arms. Her shoulders, sharp yet not frail, called to mind bamboo growing stubbornly from barren rock—unyielding in their stark beauty.
On her left collarbone was a faint set of teeth marks, left by him long ago. Her chest was bound with plain cloth, the curves beneath still alluring. Further down, her waist was lean and toned, the muscles taut without a trace of softness.
It was a different kind of beauty from the willowy grace of dancers—more like aged liquor, leaving one unable to stomach anything cloyingly sweet afterward.
Xie Zheng’s gaze lingered on the centipede-like scar on her left side. After a long silence, he reached out and traced it with his fingers. "Does it still hurt?"Fan Changyu's exposed skin had grown cool from the prolonged contact with the air. The sudden touch of his warm fingertips felt like ants crawling over her, a tingling numbness that made her straighten her back slightly in discomfort.
She frowned slightly, striving to keep her voice steady: "The scabs have all fallen off, it stopped hurting long ago."
As she spoke, she tried to gather her clothes back together, but Xie Zheng didn't withdraw his hand. His eyes were half-lowered, obscuring his expression as his calloused palm traced the length of that hideous scar with careful strokes: "What were you thinking when you got injured?"
Fan Changyu recalled the peril of that day and momentarily lost herself in thought before smiling nonchalantly. "There wasn't time to think. I just felt like there were too many enemies—long sabers, halberds, axes—all coming at me. The soldiers who followed me out of the city fell one after another, but I couldn't save them. I couldn't even protect myself..."
Before she could finish, the hand on her waist abruptly tightened, pulling her forcefully into his embrace.
Her head was pressed against Xie Zheng's shoulder, and she could clearly feel the tension in his entire body. The aura of violence around him was so thick it seemed to thin the air in the room.
His voice was hoarse as he said, "I came too late."
Fan Changyu was momentarily stunned before she wrapped her arms around his lean waist in reassurance, resting her cheek against his chest and listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "I never thought you'd come," she said softly. "From Kangcheng to Lucheng—it was too far. When I rode out to buy time, I just thought... if Lord He had held on with his life until reinforcements arrived, then I could give mine to delay them for even a moment longer. If I died fighting beneath the city walls, even if I couldn't clear my grandfather's name, at least when people spoke of the Meng family in the future, they wouldn't think of us as nothing but traitors."
The arm around her waist tightened further, squeezing until her bones ached faintly.
Xie Zheng's other hand pressed against the back of her neck, pulling her even closer against him.
Fan Changyu couldn't see his expression, but she heard him say, "From now on, I won't let you face these things alone."
A surge of bittersweet emotion welled up in her chest. She lifted her head to look at him and said earnestly, "I will uncover the truth of what happened back then. Wei Yan killed my parents—he must know the secrets behind the Jinzhou Massacre. Now that he's colluded with the rebels and nearly handed Lucheng over to them, even General Tang and the others say the Wei Faction is about to fall. Once we reach the capital, I'll reveal my true identity before the imperial court and force the emperor to interrogate Wei Yan. The truth of the Jinzhou Massacre seventeen years ago will come to light."
Xie Zheng's expression darkened at the mention of the Li family's schemes during the battle for Lucheng. He gently stroked Fan Changyu's long hair and said, "Wei Yan has been cunning for years. There's more to what happened in Lucheng. The Li faction is denouncing Wei Yan now, but it's still unclear who will fall in the end."
Fan Changyu looked puzzled, and after a brief hesitation, Xie Zheng told her about how the Li family had allowed Wei Yan's subordinates to collude with the enemy.
This was the Li family's usual tactic—just like during the flood relief efforts years ago.
The more suffering and death there was among the people, the greater the crimes they could pin on Wei Yan.
Once the accusations against Wei Yan were made public, the people would sing the Li family's praises, hailing them as the champions of justice. But no one knew that it was these very "champions" who had coldly watched their suffering and deaths unfold.Fan Changyu fell into a prolonged silence after hearing everything.
"How can they live with their consciences after so many soldiers died outside Chongzhou and Lucheng?"
After a long while, she finally murmured, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
Grand Tutor Li enjoyed a sterling reputation among the common folk, who all said that while Wei Yan committed atrocities, Grand Tutor Li was the only one who truly cared for the people.
Turns out, all that praise was just carefully crafted propaganda.
She suddenly looked up at Xie Zheng. "What about Li Huaian? Did he run away?"
Having already learned about the Li family's misdeeds and noticing Li Huaian's absence at last night's victory banquet, Fan Changyu easily guessed that he must have fled.
Xie Zheng nodded faintly. Seeing how furious she was, he added, "I let him go on purpose."
Fan Changyu frowned. "Why?"
Because of their earlier embrace, the binding around her chest had loosened slightly. Xie Zheng inadvertently glanced down and caught sight of the ample curves barely restrained by the loosened fabric. His throat moved as he averted his gaze and said, "To lead my men to someone."
Completely unaware, Fan Changyu was still confused. "Who?"
A cold glint flashed in Xie Zheng's phoenix eyes. "Sui Yuanhuai—or rather, he should be called the imperial grandson, Qi Min."
The sheer amount of information in that statement left Fan Changyu momentarily stunned.
Did he know the Sui Yuanhuai who died was a fake?
But how was he connected to the imperial grandson?
Too many questions swirled in her mind, and she couldn’t grasp the thread of it all. She only frowned and asked, "The Emperor doesn’t even have a son yet—how could he have a grandson?"
She had, after all, spent a fortune hiring several advisors. Though she hadn’t memorized the intricate web of marital and mentor-student relationships among the court officials, she had at least made sure to remember the exact number of people in the imperial family.
Xie Zheng paused slightly. "The imperial grandson I’m referring to is the descendant of the Chengde Crown Prince."
Fan Changyu was even more lost. "Didn’t that imperial grandson die in the fire at the Eastern Palace seventeen years ago?"
After a brief moment of thought, she quickly pieced it together and raised her head urgently. "Just like how the one who died wasn’t Sui Yuanhuai, the one who died in the Eastern Palace fire seventeen years ago wasn’t the imperial grandson either, right?"
As she straightened her back, the shadow between the loosened bindings deepened.
Xie Zheng had intended to answer her, but the sight before him rooted his gaze in place. His mind turned to mush, blood rushing to his scalp, and a ravenous hunger surged through him, straight to his spine—so intense he could hardly resist devouring her whole.
Noticing the shift in his expression, Fan Changyu finally realized what was happening and hastily pulled her robe closed, her face burning like a boiled lobster.
"Don’t look!" she scolded, mortified.
They had kissed many times, and he had even kissed her collarbone and shoulders, but they had never gone further than that.
Earlier, when he had been examining the wound on her abdomen, there had been nothing but concern in his eyes—not a trace of improper thoughts—so she had let her guard down.
Without a word, Xie Zheng pinned her to the bedding and kissed her thoroughly. Only after his breathing had steadied slightly did he lift his head, his eyes dark with desire and possessiveness.
"You’ll have to show me sooner or later," he said.
Fan Changyu couldn’t help herself—she slapped him straight off the bed.The commotion was likely too loud, alerting the personal guards stationed outside the courtyard. One guard hesitantly knocked on the door and spoke up with some trepidation: "Master, a squad of the Blood-Clad Cavalry has returned."
Xie Zheng seemed to have anticipated the guard's report. After getting up from the floor, he handed Fan Changyu her outer soft armor. Despite having been beaten again, he was in excellent spirits as he said, "Don't be angry. I'll take you to meet two people you've been wanting to see."
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