Seeing Gu Chusheng's resolute attitude, Chu Shan didn't press further and simply said, "I'll relay your words to the general, but as for his gift..."
"Without merit or virtue, I'd be ashamed to accept it."
Gu Chusheng glanced at the box and stated firmly, "I'll handle matters in Kunyang County myself."
In his past life, Chu Jianchang had been furious about Chu Yu's elopement and ignored them both for three full years. Back then, he had weathered it alone. Now, with memories of that life, he had even less reason to fear or worry.
Chu Jianchang had offered this money out of consideration for Chu Jin's sake. But since Gu Chusheng no longer intended to marry Chu Jin, he couldn't accept the funds and risk Chu Jianchang looking down on him.
Understanding Gu Chusheng's stance, Chu Shan sighed after a moment's thought. "Very well then. I'll return to deliver your message to the general. If I delay, he might even set a wedding date for you two."
Gu Chusheng also knew it was best to inform Chu Jianchang of such important matters promptly, so he didn't detain Chu Shan. After seeing him off beyond Kunyang, he gazed at the distant mountain ranges with his hands tucked in his sleeves and asked a servant, "What's the date today?"
"Sir, it's the seventh day."
"The seventh of the ninth month..."
Gu Chusheng murmured the date, pondered briefly, then said slowly, "Only two days left..."
While Chu Shan was delivering Gu Chusheng's message, Chu Yu at Wei Manor had nearly finished auditing the household accounts.
Over the years, Liang Shi had indeed embezzled many valuable items by exploiting Liu Xueyang and Wei Zhong's trust. After organizing and transcribing the accounts, Chu Yu contemplated how to broach the subject with Liu Xueyang.
Such prolonged embezzlement couldn't have gone completely unnoticed by Liu Xueyang, Chu Yu thought. Even if Liu Xueyang was unaware, surely Wei Zhong, Wei Jun, or someone in the Wei family must have known something. Yet no one had spoken up—why?
If the Wei family truly didn't mind Liang Shi taking a few things, abruptly presenting these accounts might only earn Liu Xueyang's displeasure.
Unfamiliar with the Wei family dynamics, Chu Yu decided to write to Wei Yun to inquire about the household's attitude toward Liang Shi.
Through their recent correspondence, she had grown more acquainted with him. Wei Yun was extremely fond of gathering gossip and seemed privy to all household news. His letters were voluble and chaotic, revealing a very boyish nature—making him the perfect source for such information.
Yet Chu Yu also understood this privilege stemmed from Wei Jun's influence.
Wei Jun must have instructed Wei Yun in some way, as the young man showed no wariness toward her.
Though his letters weren't frequent, they arrived with clockwork regularity—one every seven days. Like military dispatches, they reported daily affairs and little else.
His handwriting was exceptionally elegant. Studying it, Chu Yu could almost discern traces of the Wei Yun from her past life.
The script resembled his previous incarnation's—only whereas Wei Yun's strokes had been severe and sharp, Wei Jun's writing exuded a gentle, jade-like refinement.
Correspondence between the frontlines and Hua Jing took merely a day and night in good weather, or two days at most when conditions were poor. After sending her letter, Chu Yu retired for the night, planning to sound out Liu Xueyang the next day and strategize once she had Wei Yun's input.
But that night, for reasons unknown, Chu Yu found herself suddenly plunged into dreams.In the dream, it was her past life, when she had just followed Gu Chusheng to Kunyang County. At that time, Gu Chusheng didn’t like her much, but he couldn’t drive her away either. She found a side room in the county office to sleep in and spent her own money to arrange his life.
It was the Double Ninth Festival that day. She had prepared flower cakes and chrysanthemum wine, intending to celebrate the festival with Gu Chusheng. Just as she reached the door of his study, she heard his shocked voice: "Seventy thousand men annihilated in White Emperor Valley?! How is that possible?!"
Then the scene shifted. She was in a valley surrounded by mountains, filled with the sounds of battle, screams, and the clashing of swords and spears.
Fires raged everywhere, and in the thick smoke, she couldn’t see clearly, only hearing Wei Jun’s desperate shout: "Father! Run!"
She recognized that voice.
The young man had handed her the red silk, stammering as he called her "Miss Chu"—she had engraved that voice in her heart.
And so, she instantly knew where this was.
White Emperor Valley.
Seventy thousand troops, annihilated.
She desperately ran toward him, pushing through the crowd, trying to save him. She screamed his name: "Wei Jun! Wei Jun!"
But he couldn’t hear her. She only saw over a dozen arrows pierce his chest. He was still gripping his long spear, struggling to turn his head.
Amid the flames, his delicate face was stained with blood. This time, his voice still stammered, but it trembled from pain as he called her name—Miss... Miss Chu.
She fought her way forward, but by the time she reached him, the fires had dissipated, and white mist began to rise around them. He was buried under a pile of bodies, corpses everywhere.
A young boy, holding a blood-stained long spear and wearing tattered armor, called out hoarsely, his voice choked with tears: "Father... Eldest Brother... Where are you?"
Chu Yu didn’t dare move.
She slowly turned her head and saw Wei Yun.
A red cloth was tied around his head—since he was not yet of age, young boys going to battle wore this cloth as a symbol of encouragement.
His face was smeared with blood, his eyes filled with fear and confusion. He turned over corpse after corpse, calling out their names.
"Third Brother..."
"Fifth Brother..."
"Sixth Brother..."
"Fourth Brother..."
"Second Brother..."
"Father..."
Finally, he found Wei Jun. When he turned the young general’s body over from the pile of the dead, he could no longer hold back. The tears he had been suppressing burst forth as he clung tightly to Wei Jun.
"Eldest Brother!"
He wailed, his cries echoing through the valley.
"Your wife is still waiting for you!"
"You promised to come home... Eldest Brother, wake up... Let me die in your place... Don’t leave Xiao Qi behind!"
"Brother... Father..."
Wei Yun’s cries shook heaven and earth, but around him lay only corpses—not a single soul could answer him.
The boy, once as lively as a sparrow, gradually succumbed to despair, then fury, then hatred, then terror, all within his sobs.
Chu Yu watched silently, watching the mountains of corpses and rivers of blood, watching the god of slaughter descend once more.
In Wei Yun, she faintly glimpsed the shadow of the man she had first met.
The King Who Pacifies the North, Hellguard Seven, Wei Yun.
The man who, at fourteen, saw all the men of his family die on the battlefield; who, at fifteen, shouldered the burden of life and death to march to the frontier and save the nation from peril; who, thereafter, stood alone as the pillar of the state.
But she didn’t feel the same reverence, respect, wariness, or worry she had back then.
Looking at that young boy, all she felt was an overwhelming surge of heartache.It shouldn’t be like this.
Wei Xiao Qi, it shouldn’t be like this.
She hurried forward, wanting to call out to him, but at that very moment, the dream abruptly ended, and she jolted awake.
Sunlight fell on her face as she gasped for breath. Wanyue entered carrying a basin of water, smiling as she said, “The young madam has woken up late today.”
Wanyue and Changyue liked the Wei family and had changed their address, now calling Chu Yu “young madam.”
Chu Yu was still lost in the remnants of her dream. Wanyue stepped closer and waved a hand in front of her eyes. “Young madam, did you have a nightmare?”
Chu Yu’s gaze slowly focused, settling on Wanyue. The shattered composure from her dream gradually steadied as she asked hoarsely, “What… day is it today?”
“You really slept soundly,” Wanyue chuckled, her eyes tinged with amusement. “Today is the Double Ninth Festival, the ninth day of the ninth month. Last night, you even asked us to prepare flower cakes and chrysanthemum wine…”
Before she could finish, Chu Yu slipped on her shoes and, without even changing her clothes, rushed toward the backyard where the carrier pigeons were kept.
Still disoriented, the sudden movement made her dizzy, and she staggered unsteadily, colliding squarely with Changyue, who had just hurried in. The impact sent both of them tumbling to the ground.
Changyue let out an “Oof!” and was about to scold when she saw Wanyue hastily helping Chu Yu up. She blinked in confusion. “Young madam, what’s the matter?”
“Where’s Wei Qiu?”
Chu Yu finally snapped back to her senses, her voice rising sharply. “Call Wei Qiu here!”
Wanyue sensed something was amiss and quickly sent for Wei Qiu.
By the time Wei Qiu arrived, Chu Yu had washed up and regained some composure. She looked up at him and asked, “Any news from the border?”
Wei Qiu hesitated, then shook his head. “Not yet.”
“If there is any news,” Chu Yu said gravely, “notify me immediately. Do everything you can to intercept it first—don’t let anyone else know. Understood?!”
Wei Qiu didn’t understand why she would give such an order, but recalling Wei Jun’s private instructions, he nodded in agreement.
That day, Chu Yu had no mind for anything else. She barely ate or drank, waiting anxiously by the carrier pigeon loft.
Late that night, a pigeon finally flew in. Before it could land, Chu Yu leaped up and snatched it from the air.
She swiftly untied the note and saw Wei Yun’s hastily scrawled handwriting.
The paper was stained with blood, clearly written in urgency.
“Ninth month, eighth day. Father and elder brothers trapped in White Emperor Valley. I am heading to reinforce. Prepare for the worst.”
Ninth month, eighth day. White Emperor Valley.
Chu Yu’s mind buzzed, her fingers nearly tearing the note to shreds.
He still went.
Why did he still go?!
He promised her—how could he still go?!
Author’s Note: A minor revision here—earlier, it was mentioned that 200,000 troops were annihilated at White Emperor Valley, but upon reflection, that seemed exaggerated. So it’s been adjusted to 70,000. The previous mentions will be edited accordingly.
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