Love and Crown

The fresh snow blanketing the ground reflected a luminous glow as sparks from clashing blades exploded before their eyes once more. The young emperor suppressed the churning blood qi in his chest and retreated a step.

He raised his sword before his eyes, his indifferent double-pupiled gaze sweeping over the faint notches on the blade. At this moment, he no longer had the strength to protect the sword from damage with his Inner Force. Both he and the Great Khan with his eagle-like eyes were utterly exhausted. How much longer this street-brawl-like struggle would last, he didn't know.

A faint, wry smile touched the emperor's lips. Now she sat astride her horse nearby, watching him and the Great Khan with apparent indifference. Who would she want to win?

Certainly not him... But since she wanted this battle, he would give it to her—give her all he could offer. Wasn't this the only thing left he could do for her?

Moreover—he absolutely couldn't lose. While accurately judging the trajectory of the Great Khan's steel blade, his peripheral vision never left Gui Wuchang at the periphery.

In their two brief exchanges, he had already discerned that this man's strength was no less than his own. He could leave, but he couldn't allow such a dangerous person to remain by her side—even if it meant mutual destruction.

The Great Khan was also weakening, his breathing labored. The fur around his wounds was entirely stained red. Though the emperor's last strike hadn't been heavy, it had been precise—accurately slicing open the most vital spot. Flesh parted cleanly under the sharp blade, the wound gaping grotesquely on either side. The emperor had calculated the Great Khan's movements and retreat paths perfectly. With just a bit more force, he could have cleaved the Khan in two.

This nearly uncanny swordsmanship couldn't have been taught by any ordinary master. Like the Khan's own skills, it was forged in countless life-or-death battles. Only now did the Great Khan acknowledge he'd truly underestimated this seemingly scholarly and frail emperor. Like himself, this was someone who had once licked blood from knife edges.

Good. So this was the kind of man he was. The sort who could make such a woman deeply attached should indeed be like this.

Thinking of that still-childish young girl, the battle-hardened Great Khan actually smiled.

That girl who always tried so desperately to appear mature and wise—she never realized how easily her eyes betrayed her. She blinked when lying, glanced about nervously when frightened, yet when enemies truly threatened, she'd meet them head-on without fear, baring small beast-like fangs that weren't particularly intimidating.

Perhaps even she didn't realize how her gaze turned sorrowful whenever it fell upon that scholarly emperor—a heartbreaking look, like a child coveting candy they could never have, simultaneously restraining the urge to reach out while unable to bear letting go, so choosing instead to feign indifference.

What childish behavior. Watching her, he began to envy that emperor. She wasn't some peerless beauty—he'd seen too many stunning women: dignified, bewitching, delicate, passionate. They nestled at his knees pouring wine, trembled pleasurably beneath him, yet he'd never seen any of them look at someone with that expression.

He too wished a woman might look at him like that—when her eyes found yours, the world suddenly fell silent, and you felt all worldly clamor, all concerns of success or failure, no longer mattered.He suddenly realized that perhaps what he loved was merely the melancholy in her eyes—something so fragile it seemed it would shatter at the slightest touch. That hidden vulnerability beneath her stubbornness and feigned nonchalance tugged at his heartstrings. He desired that charm, longed to shelter that girl beneath his wings.

Once more, blades crossed with gnashing hatred, sparks of pale blue exploding in the air.

"Hidden weapons—watch out..." she suddenly called from the sidelines, her voice tinged with urgency.

Was she warning him? The Great Khan instinctively looked up—no, it was for the other man.

A faint whistling sound sliced through the air, then her voice was abruptly cut off as a hidden weapon struck her, sending her stumbling backward.

With a clang, the emperor dropped his longsword and turned away. Channeling his lifelong martial prowess to its peak, he closed the distance of several yards in an instant, catching her before she hit the ground. "Cang Cang!" he cried anxiously.

The Great Khan stared blankly at the discarded sword on the ground. In the heat of battle, the emperor had simply thrown away his weapon, exposing his undefended back—all because he needed both hands to hold her. Did he not realize how many opportunities he'd just given his enemy to strike him down?

The young girl struggled weakly against his shoulder. "Get away from me! I don't like you anymore. We've been even ever since... ever since I stabbed you that time!"

"Cang Cang, don't move—you'll aggravate the wound... Alright, alright, we're even. Just stay still." The young emperor's voice, usually so composed even in life-or-death duels, now trembled as he swiftly sealed the major acupoints around her wound while cradling her delicate chin with shaking hands. "Cang Cang, it didn't hit any vital meridians. There's still hope—quick, fetch the bone scalpel and medicine! She can still be saved!"

In truth, he hadn't checked any meridians at all. From the moment he'd caught Cang Cang, he'd done nothing but clutch her tightly to his chest, too afraid to even check her pulse or breathing.

But she wasn't bleeding much—just a small stain. Her body felt so light, as if she might transform into a butterfly and fly away if he loosened his grip.

Surveying the stunned cavalry and Imperial Bodyguards frozen in place, the Great Khan knew he should seize this opportunity. He sprang forward, pressing his steel blade against the emperor's neck. "Anyone moves, and I'll take his head."

"I told you to get the bone scalpel and medicine!" The emperor beneath his blade suddenly looked up and roared, "You idiot! Don't you understand?"

The Great Khan didn't know if this was the first time this refined, scholarly emperor had ever sworn, but he found himself involuntarily stepping back. Keeping his blade at the emperor's throat, he ordered his trusted subordinate Chi Ku, "Go check if He Du is still in his tent."

"If the old field surgeon isn't there, bring whatever tools he uses for cutting flesh and removing arrows. Take all the wound medicine you can find, and bandages too. And someone start a fire to boil water," the emperor commanded with regained composure, issuing rapid orders.

"Do as he says," the Great Khan quickly added, then looked down at Cang Cang in the emperor's arms. "How is she?""The hidden weapon isn't poisoned, nor did it hit any vital organs, but it seems to be right next to the heart, which is a bit troublesome." The emperor had already bent down to carefully examine Cang Cang's injury, pressing his fingers against her pulse points to observe the subtle changes.

"Can you remove it? Should we call He Du back?" the Great Khan asked.

"That old fellow just told me yesterday I wouldn't live past this morning," the emperor chuckled, his trembling voice gradually steadying. "I am the direct disciple of the world's greatest physician. Having him do it would be worse than me doing it myself. No matter what, it must be done." He had to succeed—otherwise, the price would be losing her.

If they summoned Li Mingshang from within the pass, the delay could be disastrous. If the metal fused with the flesh and blood around her heart, even divine intervention wouldn’t be able to save her.

"You truly are a worthy opponent," the Great Khan suddenly remarked, his tone thoughtful. He could see that this was a man who, the more dire the situation, the better he could control his emotions. Such a man, no matter who stood against him, was an adversary to be respected.

The emperor lifted his dual-pupiled eyes to meet the Great Khan’s hawk-like gaze. There was no comfort greater than the silent understanding between rivals. The corners of both their lips curled slightly.

Water bubbled furiously in the iron basin. The emperor held a small knife over the blue flames until the silver blade slowly turned red-hot. He then swiftly plunged it into the boiling water. A hiss sounded as steam rose in a wispy cloud. Once the smoke dissipated, his hand moved like lightning—the blade sliced open the skin beside the embedded arrow.

Blood welled up instantly from the incision, yet the emperor’s hand remained steady as ever. With practiced precision, he avoided tendons and veins, tracing his way to the triangular hidden weapon.

The small projectile was soon carefully extracted. The Great Khan, who had been watching, let out a relieved breath.

One hand pressed firmly against the wound, the emperor’s other hand was already threading a needle for sutures.

Stitching, applying medicine, bandaging—it was all done in one seamless motion.

Only when the emperor lifted Cang Cang from the temporary bedding on the fur rug did he finally exhale slightly, exhaustion creeping into his voice. "We need to find a place for her to rest quietly. Only when she regains consciousness and shows no signs of fever can we truly say her life is saved."

The Great Khan nodded, then couldn’t help but ask, "How do you even have skills like these?"

The emperor smiled. "What? Is an emperor who knows medicine so strange?"

"An emperor who knows medicine isn’t strange," the Great Khan waved a hand dismissively. "I’m just wondering if there’s anything you don’t know." He studied the emperor’s pallor before adding, "I’ll go order a ceasefire now. You should stay here in our camp."

"So I can’t avoid being a prisoner after all," the emperor laughed.

"Cang Cang can’t be moved and needs rest. As for you—" The Great Khan’s gaze flicked over the emperor’s ashen face. "You can barely stand on your own, yet you still refuse to put her down. Impressive."

He hadn’t noticed before, but now he saw it—a dark red stain on the emperor’s chest as well.

That was where the hidden weapon had struck. In that split-second moment of crisis, he had not only exposed his back to the enemy but hadn’t even dodged the incoming projectile.

The emperor glanced back at the Imperial Bodyguards, whom the Great Khan had ordered to retreat several yards away. "Great Khan, this time, you’ve won.""Of course." The Great Khan snorted lightly as he turned away. Deep down, he knew the true loser was himself. The moment he saw Cang Cang struck by the arrow, he had hesitated—debating whether to drop his weapon and rush to her. That split second of hesitation was all it took for him to lose, utterly and completely.

Because that man, when faced with the same decisive moment, hadn’t hesitated in the slightest—his resolve was terrifyingly absolute.

"Kumoer," the emperor addressed the Great Khan by name, "the wound on your chest—would you like me to bandage it for you?"

"No need to trouble yourself over that. A Jurchen man isn’t afraid of shedding a little blood. You should tend to your own injuries first." The handsome Great Khan arched a brow, smirking. "What’s this, Xiao Bai? So concerned for me—have you grown fond of me after these few days together?"

"Indeed. The kind of fondness that lingers like the autumn wind, unceasing, forever tied to the Jade Pass. Until the barbarians are subdued, I fear I won’t be able to let go." The emperor tossed out the jest casually.

Though the Great Khan’s knowledge of Han literature was shallow, he recognized the poem and chuckled in response.

Less than an hour into the battle, both sides sounded the retreat. What was meant to be a grand, decisive confrontation ended just like that.

Minjia had been leading her elite troops in the thick of the fight, reveling in the slaughter, when she was abruptly recalled. Fuming, she stormed back into the command tent, shrugging off her shoulder armor, ready to complain—only to see the emperor seated by the bedside.

By now, she knew "Xiao Bai" was the Han emperor. Her bright eyes widened in astonishment as she rushed over and grabbed his shoulders. "Xiao Bai, you’re alright?" Then her gaze landed on Cang Cang, lying pale and unconscious on the bed, and she leapt up. "Cang Cang! What happened to her? Who hurt her like this?"

The emperor had already removed the hidden weapon from his chest and wrapped the wound haphazardly. Raising a hand, he gestured for her to lower her voice before leaning back against the headboard and closing his eyes to rest.

For some reason, even bold and unrestrained Minjia obeyed him without question. She softened her voice. "Xiao Bai, so Cang Cang is your wife? Why didn’t you tell me? I really like her—if anyone else tried to take her away, I’d never allow it. But if it’s you… well, I suppose I’ll let it slide."

The emperor couldn’t help but laugh at her words and opened his eyes. "No wonder you two get along so well. Even your way of talking is similar—full of strange logic."

"It’s not strange logic! Think about it—if there are two people you like, and they end up together, of course you’d be happy for them." Minjia flashed a mysterious smile. "Xiao Bai, I’ll tell you a secret. Cang Cang once told me she already had someone she loved."

The emperor smiled faintly. "Oh?"

"But then she said that person was already dead." Minjia shook her head. "She was so worried about you before—I think she must like you too, Xiao Bai. You should treat her well."

The emperor chuckled. "Thank you, Min Min."

Just those gentle words were enough to make Minjia’s cheeks flush again. "I’ll go now," she murmured before vanishing like a gust of wind.

Watching her lovely figure disappear, the emperor turned his gaze back to Cang Cang’s face.

After half a month in the Jurchen Camp, she had grown even thinner. Her injuries had left her complexion pallid, and lying there like this, she looked so fragile it tugged at his heart.

The prophecy from years ago echoed in his ears once more: You can’t hold onto anything, Xiao Huan. No matter how desperately you want to protect something—who told you to be born into the Xiao family? The emperor's body suddenly convulsed. Pressing a hand to his chest, he bent over as a chilling cold surged up his throat with a salty dampness. Leaning against the bedside, he gasped heavily, no longer even coughing up blood. Had his end finally come?

In the quiet night, the charcoal in the brazier crackled softly. The Great Khan bent down and gently draped a fur cloak over the dozing emperor by the bedside before settling onto a cushion nearby. Taking out a fire poker to stir the embers, he spoke, "You should take care of yourself too. Even the strongest man can't endure such exhaustion without rest."

The emperor half-opened his eyes, adjusted the fur cloak, and joked weakly, "Kumoer, since when do you care about me? Could it be that prolonged closeness has bred affection?"

"Affection, my foot! I just noticed you’ve stopped coughing and spitting blood, yet your complexion worsens daily. I’d rather you not die in my camp." The Great Khan smirked.

The emperor chuckled. "Aren’t we mortal enemies? Don’t tell me you’re concerned for me."

At this, the Great Khan laughed. "Fine. If you die here, Qi Chengliang will surely fight me to the death, and I’ve no desire to perish with him."

After a thoughtful pause, the emperor said, "Prepare paper and ink. I’ll write him a letter. Once he reads it, he won’t act rashly."

Taken aback, the Great Khan hesitated. "You mean... you’d help me persuade Qi Chengliang not to seek vengeance after your death?"

The emperor’s lips curved faintly. "Minister Qi is steady by nature and unlikely to act recklessly. Still, beyond our ruler-subject bond, we share personal ties. I fear his grief might cloud his judgment."

Narrowing his eyes, the Great Khan studied him. "Xiao Bai, tell me truthfully—what else have you arranged?"

"Before coming to Shanhai Pass, I left a secret imperial edict designating my successor. Should I not return, the throne won’t stand vacant." The emperor’s smile remained serene. "So your plan to exploit chaos and march on the capital is futile, Kumoer. I advise you to seek peace instead. After months at Shanhai Pass, surely you’ve realized the Jurchen forces alone cannot conquer the Central Plains. Rather than endless bloodshed, a truce would benefit both our nations."

He even managed a faint smile at Kumoer. "I’ve already selected an envoy for peace talks—Wei Yi, the cautious and diplomatic Vice Minister of War. He’s currently at Shanhai Pass with my edict. Whether I return or not, he’ll negotiate terms as instructed. What do you think?"

Kumoer watched him silently before finally smiling. "Xiao Bai... only now do I truly see you in a new light."

The emperor laughed deliberately. "Don’t tell me you still viewed me as a male concubine all this time?"

Shaking his head, Kumoer replied with unexpected solemnity, "I never saw you that way."

The emperor smiled briefly before adding, "Kumoer, please take care of Cang Cang."

This time, the Great Khan didn’t hesitate. Arching a brow, he said, "Naturally. Cang Cang is my woman—no need for your concern."The emperor smiled, "Thank you... Cang Cang loves to travel. If possible, let her go. When playing chess, it's best to let her win—she’ll flip the table if she loses. She dislikes being bound by rules, so don’t force her. If she falls for someone else, let her be..." Suddenly, he shook his head with a bitter laugh, "Even I couldn’t do these things—how can I ask you to?"

"It’s just about spoiling her as much as possible," the Great Khan waved lightly. "That’s easy. What I fear is her heart still belongs to you. No matter how I try to cheer her up, she’ll never truly be happy."

"Me?" The emperor was taken aback, then shook his head gently with a faint smile. "I’ve hurt her so much—she must loathe me to the bone."

Turning his gaze away, the Great Khan chuckled softly. "Fine, I promise you. I’ll do everything in my power to care for her, to make her happy—so happy that one day she’ll forget you completely. When that happens, don’t regret it from the underworld."

The emperor laughed along, his deep, dual-pupiled eyes shifting back to Cang Cang’s face as he murmured, "That would be wonderful."

He smiled again. "Kumoer, I never intended to take her back to the capital this time. If I could save her, wherever she wished to go, I’d let her." He paused, his gaze dropping to his hands. "The Forbidden Palace is too vast, too cold. She deserves better places."

The Great Khan lifted his head, his hawk-like eyes locking onto the emperor’s refined profile. After a long silence, he laughed twice. "Been sitting too long—I’ll take my leave." As he stood, he suddenly added, "Xiao Bai, did you foresee everyone’s fate except your own?"

The emperor smiled—a smile so serene it seemed transcendent. "Such is my destiny. This moment is already a luxury."

The Great Khan said nothing more. Noticing the untouched wine and meat by the bed, he remarked, "You haven’t eaten again. How will you hold up like this?"

"Food can sometimes be a burden," the emperor replied before leaning back against the headboard and closing his eyes.

The Great Khan gave him a long, deep look, then lifted the leather curtain and stepped out.

The emperor’s medical skills far surpassed He Du’s. By the third day, Cang Cang’s fluctuating fever had stabilized. She awoke just as both the emperor and the Great Khan were present. When she wrinkled her nose and let out her first yawn, the emperor, who had been keeping vigil by her bedside, smiled and whispered, "Cang Cang, thank goodness."

As soon as the words left his lips, all color drained from his face, and he collapsed heavily beside the bed.

The Great Khan rushed over in alarm to help him up, only to realize Cang Cang wasn’t truly conscious yet. She merely murmured deliriously, "Brother Xiao, it was so scary... I had this long dream where you killed my Master, we got married but you didn’t love me at all, and later you even killed Xian Xue. Thank goodness it was just a dream. Now that I’m awake and can see you, I’m so happy." She turned her head, her dazed eyes searching the room. "Where are you, Brother Xiao?"

The Great Khan noticed that since their return, aside from changing her bandages and treatments, the emperor had never once reached out to touch her—even though his gaze never left her, even though he had exhausted himself for her safety.

This time, he gently took the emperor’s hand and placed it in hers. "He’s right here."Cang Cang held his hand contentedly. "I knew you'd always be by my side." She intertwined her fingers and grasped his hand firmly. "Brother Xiao, your hands are so cold."