Legend of the Female General

Chapter 159: Parting Sentiments

The girl's tears fell like fragile dewdrops, sliding down her cheeks, burning with an almost scalding heat in that instant.

Upon reflection, this was the first time Xiao Jue had seen He Yan shed tears.

He was momentarily stunned, thinking to himself that after all, she was still a young woman. No matter how formidable she usually was, the sight of blood and gore on her first battlefield must have been terrifying. Yet... when she had fought against Rida Muzi before, her reaction hadn't seemed as intense as it was now.

After a moment's thought, Xiao Jue finally furrowed his brow and softened his voice to comfort her, "It's over now. Don't cry."

He glanced around. The Wutuo soldiers were now nothing more than a defeated remnant struggling in their death throes, while Cui Yuezhi's reinforcements had arrived. The remaining enemies were no longer a threat.

"Commander!" Fei Nu rushed over and, seeing He Yan, also froze for a moment.

"How long are you going to stand here crying?" Xiao Jue asked, feeling a headache coming on.

He Yan quickly wiped away her tears, realizing she had lost her composure earlier. Even though the situation was now under control, this was no time for melancholy. She turned and said, "Ah, I just got sand in my eyes earlier. It's fine now. Let's finish up here!"

Her voice still carried traces of her earlier sobs, and the excuse was so flimsy it felt almost insulting. Xiao Jue couldn't be bothered to call her out on it. But as she turned to pick up her sword and walk back, his gaze suddenly sharpened, and he grabbed her arm.

"What's wrong?" He Yan asked, turning back in confusion.

Xiao Jue didn't answer, only looked behind her. Following his gaze, He Yan saw a few drops of blood slowly trickling down from her waist, disappearing into the river water and leaving only a faint trail of red.

She froze, reaching behind to touch her waist. The pain, delayed for so long, seemed to finally catch up with her. It was likely that in her furious charge into the Wutuo soldiers earlier, she had focused solely on attacking and neglected her defense, leaving an opening for a Wutuo soldier to wound her. Later, in her haste to find Xiao Jue, she hadn't even noticed when she had been injured.

The heavy armor she wore concealed any wounds, making them difficult to detect unless blood dripped down. He Yan felt the pain, but it was nothing she couldn't endure. She had suffered worse injuries in the past, so she didn't think much of it. Instead, she adjusted her armor and said dismissively, "It's probably just a cut. I'll bandage it up when we get back."

"Go find Lin Shuanghe now," Xiao Jue said. "You're not needed here anymore."

The Wutuo forces were already defeated. Maka was dead, and thousands of ships on the river were engulfed in flames. The remaining stragglers could be handled by Cui Yuezhi and the remaining Jiyang City Army. However, He Yan wasn't one to rest while her subordinates continued to fight. "It's not necessary," she said. "It's just a minor injury."

Xiao Jue's expression turned cold, his brow furrowed as he looked at her.

"Really, it's not necessary," He Yan insisted, trying to pull her arm free, but Xiao Jue's grip was too strong.

The young man in dark armor looked down at her, his posture straight and imposing. His cool gaze seemed to carry a sharp edge, yet his tone remained calm. "Don't you feel pain? Do you have no sense of it, or do you just refuse to admit it?"

He Yan sensed that he was angry.

Instinctively, she replied, "...It doesn't hurt."

A faint trace of mockery flickered in the young man's eyes as he looked at her calmly. "Is it that you don't feel pain, or that you don't dare to feel it? Do you think it's unnecessary, or do you simply not need to?"After saying this, he let go and turned to leave, not looking back at He Yan again.

"What kind of temper is this?" He Yan stood in place for a long moment before muttering softly, "No one ever taught me, and no one ever comforted me either."

She followed after him.

...

The war ended far earlier than expected.

From the moment the Wutuo People's warships entered the canal, to the wind-aided fire attack, to the cleanup of the remaining enemy troops, it took only two days. Not even three.

This was certainly due to the bravery of the Jiyang City Army and the ingenious command and strategy of Xiao Jue, but most importantly, it was because of that east wind. Had that wind arrived any later or lasted any shorter, the outcome would not have been the same.

The east wind fanned the flames relentlessly, burying thousands of Wutuo warships together in the canal outside Jiyang City. Countless citizens of Jiyang knelt and kowtowed toward the canal, praying with tears streaming down their faces: "Thank you, Water Goddess, for your protection. Thank you, General Feng Yun, for your divine command. Thank you, Heaven, for blessing Jiyang and the Great Wei."

The morning glow dyed the entire river surface, turning the blood-soaked water into a brilliant gold-red. It was impossible to tell whether it was the blood of fallen heroes or the glow of the dawn—a breathtakingly magnificent sight.

The remaining soldiers of the Jiyang City Army on the shore removed their armor and sat on the ground, staring blankly toward the rising sun. Their faces, stained with blood and grime, showed relieved contentment.

Jiyang City had been defended.

In the Cui residence, He Yan sat on the couch, watching Lin Shuanghe brew medicine for her.

"Brother Lin, you can leave this to Cui Jiao," He Yan said. "There's no need to trouble yourself."

Lin Shuanghe sat by the stove, fanning it as he replied, "What does a little girl know? If ordinary people brew my medicine, it won't have the same effect. I have to do it myself. I say, Sister He, you too—didn't you notice that huge gash on your body? No wonder Huaijin was so angry. If you had died here, think of how guilty he would have felt."

"It's not that big of a gash," He Yan felt he was exaggerating, "just about the length of a palm, and it didn't hit any vital spots."

In real combat, this was considered a minor injury. Once, during her most severe battle, she took an arrow to the shoulder. The fight had to continue, and there were no medics nearby, so she had to pull the arrow shaft out with her bare hands and fight through the entire battle with the arrowhead still embedded in her skin. When the army doctor finally saw her, the sleeve of her entire arm was soaked red with blood, and the wound had fused with the fabric, impossible to separate.

As long as she could still walk, fight, and it wasn't life-threatening, it was a minor injury.

"Sister, when will you remember that you're a girl? When I treat other young ladies in Shuojing City, some of them are so distressed by a birthmark the size of a fingernail that they talk of suicide. If they saw your wound, they'd faint from the sight."

He lifted the lid of the medicine pot to check. The decoction bubbled and boiled inside. Lin Shuanghe put the lid back down, wrapped a cloth around the handle, and moved the pot to the table beside him.

"Let's not talk about whether it's life-threatening or whether you're particularly good at enduring pain. But don't you care about your appearance?" He took a clean medicine bowl from the side and poured the decoction into it. "Aren't you afraid your future husband will be put off? Don't blame me for being blunt, but it's normal for girls to care about these things."

He Yan leaned against the couch, watching his movements, and smiled. "I don't plan on getting married.""Why?" Lin Shuanghe paused his movements and looked at her. "You're young, not bad-looking, and your temperament is straightforward and likable. Since you don't have any serious illnesses or complications, why don't you plan to marry?"

"Marriage sounds so dull," He Yan sighed. "Stuck in one house, walking around the same places every day. I'd rather live in the military camp."

"That's a rather unique perspective." Lin Shuanghe set the poured medicinal brew aside to cool. "When you meet someone you truly love in the future, you won't think this way anymore."

"Even if I meet someone I love, I still won't marry," He Yan declared.

Lin Shuanghe narrowed his eyes. "Sister He, don't tell me you already have someone in mind?"

"No."

Though she answered promptly, Lin Shuanghe felt a sudden suspicion. He Yan, who was usually fine, had spoken such despondent words. Based on his years of experience among women, when a young woman says "I don't want to marry," it's most likely because she has suffered a heartbreak.

He Yan had been in Liangzhou Guard all along, spending her days practicing martial arts—where would she have encountered such emotional pain?

A thought struck him: Could it be that she has fallen for Chu Zilan? And because of Chu Zilan's status and his relationship with Xu Pingting, she knows she cannot marry him, thus her heart has turned to ashes?

But then, what about Xiao Jue?

For a moment, Lin Shuanghe felt the situation was quite serious.

Seeing him lost in thought, He Yan asked again, "Brother Lin, have you seen my master?"

From the beginning of the battle until everyone started cleaning up afterward, He Yan hadn't seen Liu Buwang. Lin Shuanghe replied, "Master Liu left with Lieutenant Cui that morning. Lieutenant Cui is busy tending to the wounded and hasn't returned yet. Master Liu should be with him."

He Yan nodded, though she felt uneasy.

Lin Shuanghe walked over to He Yan again, took a round box from his sleeve, and placed it by her pillow. "This is my family's secret scar-removing ointment. Applied to the body, it may not fully restore the skin, but it can heal about seventy to eighty percent."

He Yan's wounds had already been bandaged by the female physicians in Jiyang City. Hearing this, she picked up the box and saw the words "Scar Removal and Skin Regeneration" written on it, which looked strangely familiar. Upon closer recollection, when she had gone to Liangzhou City with Xiao Jue and was injured fighting Ding Yi at night, Shen Muxue had sent her medicine upon returning to Liangzhou Guard. Among the medicines was a similar box. At the time, He Yan had used it, and the scar-removing effect was indeed remarkable—the scars had since faded significantly. She had been grateful for Shen Muxue's thoughtfulness and praised the ointment's miraculous effects. Unfortunately, the box was small, and the ointment was limited, so it ran out quickly.

"Is this your family's secret recipe?" He Yan asked.

Lin Shuanghe looked slightly proud. "To be precise, it's my secret recipe."

"Is this very expensive?"

"Sister He, how can you measure the value of medicine with money? I don't sell this medicine. If I really did, just this alone could ensure a comfortable life for generations in Shuojing City. Money means nothing to me. I specially prepared this for Huaijin. He gets injured so often, and Xiao Rubi would be heartbroken if she saw. With this scar-removing ointment, Xiao Rubi won't notice, and she'll feel better."To reassure his elder brother? He Yan thought to herself, Xiao Jue was indeed quite cautious. But she distinctly remembered it was Shen Muxue who had handed it to her. He Yan asked Lin Shuanghe, "Have you prepared this medicine for anyone else? For other young ladies, perhaps?"

"What do you mean?" Lin Shuanghe replied curiously. "If this medicine were truly spread around, not only would I be bothered to death, but my father and grandfather would be too. I wouldn’t tell anyone else. I only made it for Huaijin, and not much at that—just a few boxes. It’s only because of our close relationship, little sister, that I gave you one. Don’t tell anyone else either. This medicine is a pain to make, and I’d like to live a few more years."

He Yan: "...Alright."

"Then take your time drinking the medicine and rest afterward." Lin Shuanghe shook his fan contentedly. "I’ll go out first and ask around the manor to see if there’s anything else I can help with."

After Lin Shuanghe left, He Yan looked at the medicine box in her hand. It was delicate, fitting snugly in her palm.

Xiao Jue gave it to her?

...

The wounded soldiers were all settled, and the fallen warriors were recorded one by one in the register. The Jiyang City Army had never been large, and after this battle, only a handful remained.

Cui Yuezhi led his soldiers in clearing the battlefield. He himself bore many injuries, his face smeared with blood and grime, a gash on his head hastily bandaged with white cloth.

Spotting Xiao Jue approaching from afar, Cui Yuezhi hurried to greet him, saying, "Commander Xiao."

Though Xiao Jue was much younger than him, Cui Yuezhi no longer dared to underestimate the young man before him. If not for Xiao Jue’s presence this time, Jiyang City would have been impossible to defend against the 150,000 Wutuo soldiers. While luck played a part in their narrow victory, it was largely due to this fortunate commander—or, as He Yan put it, this renowned general. He never lost what shouldn’t be lost and could win what seemed unwinnable. Even the worst situation could be turned around in his hands.

Of course, that young lady He Yan was also remarkable. But he heard she had been injured and was sent back to the manor to rest.

"The battlefield has been cleared," Cui Yuezhi reported. "Once the casualty count from the Wutuo side is finalized, we can return to the prince’s residence and report the situation to His Highness. His Highness will draft a memorial detailing the events of this battle and submit it to the court. The people of Jiyang City will never forget Commander Xiao’s life-saving grace."

Xiao Jue walked forward. "No need for gratitude. Thank yourselves."

Cui Yuezhi felt a surge of emotion. Having fought side by side, he now held a genuine fondness for Xiao Jue. Just as he was about to speak, someone else approached—one of Cui Yuezhi’s subordinates.

The subordinate glanced at Xiao Jue, his expression hesitant.

"What is it?" Cui Yuezhi asked.

"Commander, we... we’ve found Master Liu."

Liu Buwang had not been with them since the battle began. Cui Yuezhi had been worried, and upon hearing this, he urgently asked, "Where?"

"On the forest shore in front of Hulu Mouth," the subordinate replied nervously. "Master Liu..."

Cui Yuezhi’s heart sank gradually. He looked at Xiao Jue, who lowered his gaze. After a long moment, Xiao Jue spoke calmly, "Lead the way."

Liu Buwang died at the center of the formation.

His death was gruesome—his body covered in scattered wounds, the most fatal being a stab wound to the chest, piercing through from back to front, straight through his heart. Even in his final moments, the corners of his lips were upturned, without a trace of resentment or unwillingness, as if he had witnessed something extraordinarily beautiful, his expression utterly serene.Apart from this, there were also many Wutuo People lying dead around, slain by his sword. Deep within the dense forest, there were corpses as well. Cui Yuezhi stared for a long time before hesitantly asking, "The art of Qimen Dunjia?"

Xiao Jue replied, "Indeed."

Cui Yuezhi was filled with deep respect. Those who still practiced Qimen Dunjia were few and far between these days. Liu Buwang had set up formations here, killing many Wutuo People and buying them valuable time from the rear. If Liu Buwang hadn't held the front line, they wouldn't have been able to wait for the wind to arrive. Once those Wutuo People reached the bottleneck and entered the city, the slaughter would have been unimaginable.

Liu Buwang had told no one, holding the front line alone for so long that even in death, no one knew.

His sword lay beside him, his qin shattered to pieces, and his white robes were long stained crimson with blood.

Cui Yuezhi looked at Xiao Jue with concern, knowing that Liu Buwang was Xiao Jue's martial arts master. With Liu Buwang dead, Xiao Jue must be deeply grieved.

Xiao Jue crouched down, slowly straightening Liu Buwang's disheveled clothes, which had been tugged by the Wutuo People. Then, he took a handkerchief from his sleeve and gently wiped the blood from Liu Buwang's face.

After finishing these tasks, he gazed at Liu Buwang's face and said softly, "Take him back."

...

He Yan stayed at the Cui residence until evening.

Cui Yuezhi's four concubines took turns visiting her, bringing all kinds of food. Even though He Yan loved sweets, the sheer amount overwhelmed her. After finally sending the concubines away, someone outside reported, "The master is back! The governor is back!"

He Yan perked up, slipped on her shoes, and hurried outside. Cui Yuezhi and Xiao Jue had returned, and perhaps Liu Buwang was with them. But as soon as Cui Yuezhi reached the entrance, he was surrounded by his four concubines, especially the third concubine, who clung to him, weeping so bitterly it tugged at the heartstrings.

She really knows how to cry.

Just as He Yan was thinking this, she saw someone stride past Cui Yuezhi and approach her. It was Xiao Jue. He hadn't yet removed his armor, looking travel-worn and weary. He Yan didn't mind; she even thought to herself that someone with such exceptional looks could still shine through even when covered in dust.

Xiao Jue stopped before her, frowning slightly. "Who told you to come out?"

"It's nothing serious," He Yan said, clapping her hands lightly. "Even Brother Lin thinks you're making a fuss over nothing. By the way, Governor, have you seen my master? I've asked around, but no one has seen him. He should have returned by now."

At her words, Xiao Jue's gaze shifted to her face.

In his cool, dark eyes, a flicker of pity passed—a silent sigh that settled heavily in the heart.

He Yan's smile slowly faded.

She asked, "Has something happened?"

Xiao Jue replied, "Go and see him."

He Yan froze completely.

Liu Buwang lay on the couch in the room, his clothes changed, his face pale. He looked as though he were merely asleep, as if a single call would make him sit up, smile at her, and say, "Ah He."

He Yan's eyes reddened instantly.

She nearly stumbled, walking to Liu Buwang's side and taking his hand in hers.

His hand was cold, unlike the warmth she remembered when he pulled her from the pile of corpses years ago. He used to sleep lightly, waking at the slightest sound, but now, no matter how many times she called him "Master," he remained unmoved.He Yan's hand touched his shoulder, pausing for a moment before she gently pulled Liu Buwang's clothing down a little. The clothes had been changed, and it was easy to imagine that he had been injured. But He Yan hadn't expected there to be so many wounds. The Wutuo People had suffered a great loss at Liu Buwang's hands, so naturally, they had repaid him a hundredfold. When Liu Buwang's strength failed, they had scrambled to add another cut to their trophy.

His body was shattered and broken. Yet his expression was so peaceful, as if he had merely fallen asleep beneath a flowering tree, lost in a beautiful dream. He Yan's gaze fell on Liu Buwang's hand, clenched tightly into a fist. She remained silent for a moment, then used a bit of force to pry his fingers open, revealing what he had hidden in his palm.

It was a silver bracelet, seemingly crudely made, an old piece from many years ago. Perhaps from being held and cherished day after day, some of the engraved patterns had been worn almost smooth. Still, one could make out a small wild daisy carved along the edge.

This was what Liu Buwang had protected until the very end of his life. He had no children, and he had only taken her as his disciple. At the end of his journey, he left behind nothing but a zither, a sword, and this silver bracelet.

Empty and vast, clean and simple.

He Yan's throat tightened, unable to speak. After such a long separation, they had barely exchanged a few words before they were parted forever by death. She fought desperately to hold back her tears, and a handkerchief was placed before her.

"Cry if you want to," Xiao Jue said. "I'll be outside. No one will come in."

His voice was light and faint, carrying a trace of imperceptible comfort. Without waiting for He Yan to respond, he turned and walked out the door.

The door closed behind him, and from inside came the sound of a girl crying—at first suppressed sobs, then, as if unable to hold back any longer, the weeping grew louder and brighter, until finally, like a child denied candy, she broke into wailing sobs.

The sound of crying reached Aunt Wei in the neighboring room. She stood up, twisting her handkerchief anxiously. "Should I go and check on her?"

"No," Second Aunt shook her head, looking out the window where the young man stood with his hands behind his back, guarding the door like a protector watching over something fragile and precious. "In times of grief like this, it's not something the two of us can comfort."

"Let them resolve it themselves."

No one knew when the wailing in the room finally stopped. After a long while, the door creaked open, and someone stepped out.

Xiao Jue turned his head to look.

The girl who emerged had already wiped away her tears. Aside from slightly reddened eyes, there was no sign of anything amiss. Her expression was calm, even deliberately lighthearted.

"Commander, thank you for guarding the door for me," she said.

Xiao Jue frowned as he looked at her.

He Yan met his gaze. "What are you looking at? Is there something dirty on my face?"

"Ugly."

"What?"

"The way you lie is ugly." His dark eyes gleamed, his words as cold as ice, carrying the clarity of one who sees through everything. He said gravely, "I told you, you can cry when you want to cry, and you don't have to smile when you don't want to. It's better than putting on an act like you are now—utterly ugly."

These words were truly not pleasant to hear.

He Yan was stunned for a moment, then instead laughed. She said, "It's not an act. It's just... this is all I can do."Liu Buwang was already dead, an unchangeable fact. She could grieve and mourn his death, but she must always look forward. One cannot pour out their sorrows and grief to every person, as it only breeds dislike. Some painful matters are best kept in the heart. If one constantly wears a mournful face in front of others, over time, others will grow weary, and one will remain trapped in their own sorrow.

Drawing on the experience of two lifetimes, she reminded herself that no matter how difficult things were, they would eventually pass.

But still...

"You know," she sighed, "there aren't many people in this world who treat me well—I can count them on one hand."

"And now, there's one less."

(End of Chapter)