The Prisoner of Beauty

Wei Shao now commanded an army of four hundred thousand troops.

Along the thousands of kilometers of border defenses stretching from west to east in the north, military garrisons were densely stationed, housing nearly one hundred thousand of his soldiers.

The Han dynasty was fragmented by warlords, and war raged incessantly. Yet across the Sanggan River, the nomadic Xiongnu, who faced the Han people from the north and south, had entered the most prosperous golden age of the past century.

Though the Great Chanyu, Yiye Mo, was now old, and his sons vied fiercely against one another, with undercurrents of unrest—even the hooves of the Wei family's cavalry had once trampled the grasslands of the royal court—Wei Shao knew very well in his heart that this Great Chanyu of the northern nomads, who had risen to power in the same era as his grandfather, was one of the few outstanding military commanders he had ever encountered in his life.

Under this Great Chanyu's rule over the past few decades, the Xiongnu population had grown significantly, and their cavalry, which had numbered less than one hundred thousand in his grandfather's time, had now expanded to a claimed three hundred thousand.

It must be understood that warhorses were precious.

To some extent, the value of a single warhorse far exceeded that of a soldier.

In the decade since their southward advance had been checked by the Wei family, the Xiongnu, under the leadership of this Great Chanyu, had expanded westward, conquering over a dozen regimes such as Donghu, Wuhuan, Sushen, and Loulan, seizing vast territories in the Western Regions. To the north, they had subjugated nations like Qushe, Gekun, and Xinli, all peoples who lived by the bow.

Even someone as formidable as Wei Shao today had to admit that this aging Great Chanyu of the Xiongnu was by no means an enemy he could afford to underestimate.

Liangzhou, which he had seized from others, could be lost. Bingzhou could be lost. Jizhou could also be lost.

But Youzhou—that must never fall.

The troops he had left behind were another line of defense protecting the northern border, and more importantly, the guarantee of his rear base in Youzhou.

No matter what happened on the front lines, these forces could not be mobilized.

At the hour of Mao tomorrow, after the sacrificial banner ceremony, he would lead the three hundred thousand troops he could muster southward. Together with the vanguard forces, they would intercept Xing Xun's five hundred thousand-strong army on the northern bank of the Yellow River, engaging in a decisive battle of life and death.

Wei Shao knew very well in his heart that this would not be an easy war.

Xing Xun was arrogant and self-willed, but his strength was not to be underestimated. Riding on the momentum of his victory over Yuan Zhe last year, his northward advance this time would surely be fierce and aggressive.

Yet Wei Shao felt not the slightest fear.

On the contrary, from the moment he learned that Xing Xun had declared himself emperor and intended to march north to subjugate him, the blood in his veins had surged, boiling with fervor.

He felt an unprecedented excitement brought on by war.

Unlike the many battles, large and small, he had experienced over the years, this would be his first decisive confrontation with one of the most powerful opponents in the Central Plains.

The winds and clouds of the land would shift, opening and closing with thunderous force. The achievements of Yao and Shun, towering and vast, would be surpassed. The grand tide of the Nine Provinces would turn a new page from this moment onward.

The battle plans had already been laid out, awaiting only the sacrificial banner ceremony at dawn before the march began.

Gongsun Yang, Wei Quan, and others were still in the council hall, meticulously verifying seemingly trivial yet crucial details such as grain and fodder supervision, passwords, and mobilization orders.

As dusk fell, Wei Shao returned.

With the campaign imminent, the excitement that had filled his mind these past days was momentarily replaced by thoughts of that delicate woman who now carried his child. A deep sense of tenderness and reluctance welled up in his heart.

He entered the Sheyang Residence and paused when he saw the dim yellow light shining through the window.

For the past half month, no matter how late he returned, the light in this window had always remained lit for him.He quickened his pace as he approached the steps, signaling to the attendant who noticed him and was about to greet him to remain silent. In a few strides, he ascended the steps and gently pushed open the slightly ajar door.

Tiptoeing around the screen, he saw that she wasn’t lying on the bed.

She sat with her back to him at the dressing table, where an opened letter tube lay on the surface.

Her head was bowed as if she were reading the letter.

Hearing his footsteps, she set the letter down, folded it, and casually tucked it beneath the dressing case.

Wei Shao knelt behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, his palm resting on her slightly rounded belly. “Who sent the letter?” he asked.

Xiao Qiao turned her face to meet his gaze and smiled. “From my elder sister in Lingbi. General Jia delivered it just now.”

Wei Shao’s eyes flickered slightly.

He merely uttered an “Oh.”

And asked nothing further.

A few days prior, Yang Xin had sent a letter reporting that their scouts had observed Liu Yan returning to Lingbi, likely to visit Bi Zhi.

The outcome remained unknown for now, but they had seen Bi Zhi personally escort Liu Yan out of Lingbi.

To visit three times demonstrated sincerity.

It would be difficult not to be moved by such persistence.

“Manman, are you tired today?”

He leaned in, inhaling deeply the delicate fragrance of her hair, his nose brushing teasingly against her soft, jade-white earlobe as he asked tenderly.

Xiao Qiao glanced at him.

Liu Yan had abruptly inserted himself into the chaos of Xuzhou’s affairs.

Since Yang Xin had pledged allegiance to Wei Shao, Xiao Qiao doubted he was unaware of this.

Yet before her, Wei Shao remained composed, not mentioning a word of it.

She leaned back against his chest.

“Husband, do you remember Liu Yan, the Prince of Langya?” she suddenly asked.

Wei Shao nuzzled against her, his hand slipping beneath her robe, fingers teasing at the thin fabric of her undergarment.

At her words, he paused briefly but didn’t stop, instead pushing aside the delicate cloth to cup the tender fullness of her breasts, which had grown even softer and more alluring with her pregnancy.

“Why bring him up?”

He kneaded gently, savoring their pliant warmth in his palm.

His tone remained indifferent.

Xiao Qiao forcibly removed his hand from her robe, extricating herself from his embrace before turning to kneel facing him.

“Husband, you didn’t ask what my sister wrote in her letter, but I wish to tell you.”

Wei Shao’s gaze settled on her face.

“She said that despite the Prince of Langya visiting Bi Zhi three times to recruit him, Bi Zhi never agreed. She also mentioned that Bi Zhi knew Yang Xin’s withdrawal was at Marquis Yan’s behest. Since the misunderstanding has been cleared, he has no intention of stirring further trouble.”

“I know Bi Zhi’s character—he honors his word and upholds righteousness. With this, can you rest assured?”

Xiao Qiao spoke plainly, without evasion.

Wei Shao studied her eyes.

“I dislike Liu Yan.”

After a moment, he suddenly said, his words entirely unrelated to what she had just shared.

“Manman, he was once your betrothed, and I know you were fond of each other. The way he carries himself now shows he seeks to contend for the realm. If he ever crosses me, I will show no mercy.”

“Do not blame me for it!”

Each word was heavy with emphasis.

Xiao Qiao was stunned.

She hadn’t thought of Liu Yan in a long time.

But now, the memory of the final scene from her past life in her dreams, along with the events two years ago—her marriage to Wei Shao, being sent to Yuyang the next day, and the subsequent encounters after Liu Yan intercepted her on the road—all surged back vividly.When she had tactfully refused him back then, the strange look he gave her was something she still remembered vividly to this day.

She fell silent.

"Did your sister mention anything else related to Liu Yan in her letter?"

Wei Shao suddenly asked again, his tone seemingly casual.

Xiao Qiao hesitated briefly and was about to shake her head when Wei Shao leaned forward, reaching toward the letter she had tucked beneath her dressing case.

She hadn’t expected him to take the letter right in front of her.

Her heart skipped slightly.

Seeing his hand already touching the letter, she instinctively pressed her own hand over his.

Wei Shao swiftly lifted his gaze, fixing her with a look.

Xiao Qiao suddenly realized her mistake.

At the end of Da Qiao’s letter, there was a passage Liu Yan had relayed—something Xiao Qiao instinctively felt Wei Shao shouldn’t see.

Of course, with the great battle imminent, her intention was simply to avoid stirring unnecessary suspicion in Wei Shao.

But stopping him like this might have the opposite effect.

So she withdrew her hand and said, "If you really want to read it, go ahead."

Wei Shao held her gaze for a moment before slowly releasing the letter between his fingers and straightening up again.

"I want you to tell me yourself."

His tone was commanding.

Xiao Qiao sighed inwardly.

"There was another passage. He said he had let go of the past and wished me well from afar."

"Isn’t that good?"

She spoke in a lighthearted tone.

Wei Shao’s expression remained cold and unreadable. After a long silence, he suddenly smiled faintly and nodded. "Yes, very good."

Then he opened his arms to her.

Xiao Qiao nestled into his embrace.

Wei Shao lowered his head, kissing her soft, fragrant lips, when he suddenly recalled the rumors from the southern bank of the Yellow River—Xing Xun’s boastful claim that he would capture Wei Shao alive and seize Xiao Qiao for his Lotus Terrace.

Though he knew it was mere bluster, a psychological tactic before battle meant to unsettle him,

a faint anger still simmered in the depths of his heart.

His lips pressed against hers with increasing intensity.

Author's Note: Second update coming later tonight.