The winter snow had just cleared, and faint, misty sunlight filtered sparsely through the tree shadows, casting a warm glow. Since Yan Xun's return, even the weather seemed to have brightened—the sky was blue and high, the sun dazzling, and the vast snowfields reflected the brilliant light so sharply it stung the eyes.
The consecutive major battles had not only left Yanbei in ruins but had also drained Chu Qiao physically and mentally. Once she relaxed, she fell seriously ill—chills, high fever, and constant coughing at night. Despite taking bowl after bowl of medicine, she showed no improvement. Doctors came and went in a steady stream, and though her door was always shut, she often overheard Yan Xun losing his temper with them. Yet whenever he saw her, he remained calm as if nothing had happened, occasionally comforting her: "It's nothing, just a minor chill. Rest will make it better."
It seemed like a long time since she had been this ill. Her memory drifted back to childhood—when Yan Xun fell sick, she had no medicine and resorted to stealing it, only to be caught and severely beaten. But the hard-won medicine failed to cure Yan Xun; instead, he caught another chill while saving her, delirious with fever at night. Unable to use cold water directly, she ran out and crouched in the snow, waiting until she was thoroughly chilled before returning to hold him. After a night of such torment, Yan Xun recovered the next day, but she fell gravely ill. Since then, she had always feared the cold—even by the fire, her limbs remained icy. Over the years, life's hardships, arduous journeys, and relentless upheavals and killings had taught her to endure illness and pain through sheer willpower. But now, once she collapsed, she lingered on the sickbed.
Looking back, those days of cautious suffering seemed so distant. Back then, she had resented them deeply, vowing silently to one day escape such misery and make all who had bullied her pay the price. Yet now, she often found herself nostalgically reminiscing—about the quiet solitude when only the two of them remained in a desolate world, about those days when they had no shelter and could only rely on each other for warmth.
Miss Yu arrived in the afternoon. The daylight was bright, streaming in through the window lattice in rings, painting mottled shadows on the floor. Miss Yu remained unchanged—her brows delicate, eyes clear as autumn water, neck slender, chin pointed, cheeks tinged with pallor. Dressed in a white fur coat, she entered silently and stood by the door without a word, waiting quietly for Chu Qiao to notice her.
Startled by her sudden appearance, Chu Qiao propped herself up against the bedpost, her voice hoarse as she said, "Miss Yu, when did you arrive? Why didn't you say anything?"
Miss Yu stepped forward, a soft smile gracing her lips. "I just got here. I wanted to see how you are."
"Please sit."
Miss Yu sat opposite her bed, studying her closely before frowning slightly. "How did you get so ill?"
She picked up an outer garment and draped it over Chu Qiao's shoulders. Leaning against the soft pillow, Chu Qiao's face was pale, her lips colorless, as she smiled weakly. "I must have caught a chill recently."
Miss Yu gazed at her, sighing softly. "You've always been a stubborn child. Have you developed a chronic condition at such a young age?"Miss Yu should be about twenty-six or twenty-seven this year—not old by any means—yet her words and actions always carried a sense of weathered experience, as if Chu Qiao were truly just a child in her eyes.
"It's alright, you'll recover with some rest."
"That's true. Illness strikes like a collapsing mountain, but recovery is as slow as untangling silk. Just focus on recuperating and don't overthink things. Excessive worry harms the body too."
Chu Qiao nodded, then suddenly remembered something and asked, "Miss, have you met the officers of the Southwest Garrison Commander?"
A faint glimmer passed through Miss Yu's eyes as she replied calmly, "Didn't we just say you shouldn't worry too much? Have you forgotten so quickly?"
Chu Qiao shook her head slightly. "I'm just a little concerned."
"If His Highness was willing to withdraw troops from Wild Goose Cry Pass for your sake, would he really make trouble over a mere Southwest Garrison Commander?"
Having her thoughts laid bare so abruptly, Chu Qiao felt somewhat embarrassed. She remained silent for a long moment before murmuring, "I'm just afraid those men are too unruly and might offend him. If he loses his temper..."
Miss Yu draped an outer robe over her and chuckled softly. "Don't worry, everyone knows their limits."
Reassured, Chu Qiao looked up and asked, "Will you be staying in Beishuo, Miss?"
Outside, the sunlight was lavish, dazzlingly bright. Miss Yu said quietly, "The eastern front is about to see action. I won't be staying long—perhaps in just a few days, I'll need to head to Wild Goose Cry."
Chu Qiao's expression turned serious. "Is Daxia sending troops so soon?"
"His Highness has taken the northwest—how could Daxia let it go? I've heard they've already begun mobilizing troops."
"So quickly? Who's leading them? Zhao Che?"
Miss Yu smiled. "Who else but him? Meng Tian is already old, and besides, the one in the Holy Gold Palace probably doesn't trust anyone else. Even his own son—he has some reservations about him too."
Chu Qiao nodded. The room was warm, and the charcoal in the floor stove was scented with incense, making her drowsy. "You should be careful, Miss. Zhao Che isn't like Zhao Qi—he's not an easy opponent."
"Don't worry, Dao Ya will be traveling with me." Miss Yu smiled, a touch of lightness in her eyes, her expression growing calm.
Chu Qiao understood implicitly but didn't press further, merely saying, "If Mr. Wu is going too, then it's much more secure."
"Rest now. I have matters to attend to, so I'll take my leave."
Chu Qiao nodded. "Miss, thank you for what you did before."
Miss Yu's steps faltered slightly. She turned back, her gaze light and serene. "A Chu truly has a heart of exquisite clarity."
Too ill to leave her bed, Chu Qiao merely inclined her head slightly. "Take care, Miss."
After Miss Yu left, a maid entered to bring Chu Qiao her medicine. She lifted the bowl and drank it sip by sip. The medicine was bitter, leaving a harsh, astringent taste in her mouth.It wasn't hard to guess - with Yan Xun's intelligence, how could he not have a foolproof plan? The reason he left Miss Yu behind was precisely to coordinate with himself. Yet at Beishuo, Miss Yu hadn't actively come to escort her to Blue City, and afterward repeatedly allowed her to act freely, finally even truthfully reporting Yan Xun's invasion of Daxia. The deeper meaning behind this was self-evident. Yan Xun entrusted this matter to her because he trusted her loyalty. Unfortunately, although Zhong Yu was loyal, when the interests of Yanbei and Yan Xun conflicted, her loyalty diminished significantly. She understood this, and how could Yan Xun not understand as well? That's why, even with Yanbei currently facing battles at both Meilin Pass and the eastern front, he still sent Wu Daoya to Miss Yu's side, not letting her wield power alone. And Miss Yu clearly understood all this but was unwilling to point it out. Perhaps she truly didn't mind - compared to power, being with Mr. Wu might be what made her happier.
Miss Yu was indeed an intelligent person. She and Mr. Wu both came from Wolong Mountain, with their master being the renowned Mr. Wolong. Mr. Wolong was an extraordinary recluse, said to be over a hundred years old, with disciples spread throughout the world during his lifetime. From noble families and imperial relatives to street vendors and merchants, this master's knowledge encompassed all under heaven. He didn't care about social status when accepting disciples, teaching different knowledge according to each disciple's innate abilities. Thus among his students were literary giants well-versed in classics, ministers and nobles with grand ambitions, military commanders skilled in battlefield strategy, agile heroic assassins, wealthy merchants with substantial fortunes, and skilled woodworkers and blacksmiths...
Though Mr. Wolong had many disciples, their quality varied greatly. Examples included Biantang's current seventy-year-old prime minister Cheng Wenjing, the eastern traitor Yue Shaocong who betrayed Daxia and led the Quanrong through the pass forty years ago, the outstanding young generation commanders of the Great Alliance Society Wu Daoya and Zhong Yu - the foremost rebels of their time. And there was one more person Chu Qiao couldn't forget: Daxia's Zhuge Clan Fourth Young Master, Zhuge Yue.
Zhao Che was about to lead troops to attack. Would he come?
Chu Qiao sighed softly and drank the medicinal broth in her bowl in one gulp.
The battlefield was perilous, with swords having no mercy. No, hopefully not.
In the afternoon, she took a nap and felt much more energetic upon waking. Having been cooped up in her room for several days, she thought about going out for some activity. She wore a sapphire-blue cotton dress with a paired jacket embroidered with yellow-rusted white magnolias. The narrow sleeves tightened around her arms, gathered into lantern shapes, making her figure appear even more slender and delicate. The maid styled her hair into a bun with slight drooping on both sides, adorned with a few crimson necklaces. A light blue jade hairpin was inserted at her temple, with a string of delicate tassels gently hanging down, occasionally brushing against her fair, creamy earlobes.
Chu Qiao rarely wore such feminine clothing. She examined herself in the mirror for a long time, feeling somewhat novel yet also faintly happy.
When she opened the door, the wind was quite strong. The maids wanted to follow her, but Chu Qiao declined. Alone, she quietly walked out carrying a small horn lantern.After all, it was the depth of Yanbei's winter. The drifting snow and mist appeared hauntingly beautiful, yet the cold was truly biting. Fortunately, she was bundled up in thick layers with a windproof fox fur cloak draped over them. A slender crescent moon hung high above, its light pure and bright, casting a silvery sheen across the snow-blanketed ground. Having been confined indoors for days, her nostrils had been filled with nothing but the scents of medicine and incense, leaving her head heavy and muddled. Now, stepping outside for a stroll, her mind felt clear and refreshed, as if her illness had eased somewhat.
The moonlight was so exquisite—like candlelight filtered through pale blue gauze, delicate and ethereal as smoke. The wind rustled through the leaves with a soft, whispering sound. Chu Qiao walked slowly, then paused far below the window of Yan Xun's study. He seemed to have just returned from the military camp and had not yet retired for the night. The lamplight inside was so bright that it cast a long, slender, and upright shadow. There were others in the study with him; they appeared to be discussing something. A breeze picked up, blurring the sounds, and she couldn't make out their words.
Suddenly, her heart grew profoundly calm. It was like waking in the morning, pushing open the window, and discovering the world blanketed in pure white. The warm sunlight caressed her face, the sky was a brilliant blue, and snow-white eagles soared with outstretched wings. A cup of clear tea sat on the desk, its steam rising and coiling like a sinuous dragon.
For a long, long time, she had been unable to decipher her feelings for Yan Xun. When she first arrived here, she had observed the world's injustices with the detached eyes of a modern person. Gradually, she became entangled in it all—experiencing sorrow, anger, resentment, kindness, and gratitude. These mounting emotions drew her deeper into this world, flesh and blood taking form, until she could no longer remain an indifferent spectator. As for Yan Xun, her feelings had evolved from initial hatred to gratitude, then to sympathy and pity, to relying on each other for survival, and slowly, as they grew older, those emotions transformed. Unspoken sentiments had quietly taken root in her heart, sprouting fresh, tender shoots. They endured frost, harsh winters, mountains of corpses, oceans of blood, and life-and-death slaughter. And now, those tender shoots had grown into towering trees. Occasionally, she would look up and see their lush, verdant branches and leaves.
She had always been such a silent and stubborn person. Always.
The study door opened, and people began to file out. A Jing, sharp-eyed, spotted Chu Qiao standing beneath the plum tree and called out in surprise. Hearing this, Yan Xun hurried out of the room. When he saw her, he frowned and said, "Why are you standing there alone? Don't you know you're still sick?"
Chu Qiao smiled and let Yan Xun take her hand. The man glared at her, his expression stern, and clasped her cold hands tightly in his, complaining, "They're freezing. How long have you been here?"
"Just a little while."
As soon as they stepped inside, a wave of warm, fragrant air washed over her. Chu Qiao sniffed and murmured, "What incense is this? It's so strong."
At her words, Yan Xun's face abruptly changed. He quickly pushed Chu Qiao back toward the doorway, grabbed a pot of tea, and poured it into the incense burner. A hissing white steam immediately billowed out. Frantically, he threw open the windows.
Chu Qiao frowned. "Yan Xun, what are you doing?"
Yan Xun brushed off his hands and stepped out, his voice grave. "We can't stay in this room. Let's go."
With that, he led Chu Qiao into his bedroom.
Yan Xun's bedchamber was free of incense, and the air felt much cleaner. Still puzzled, Chu Qiao watched as he took a towel from the maid Lan Xiang to wipe his face, then stepped forward and asked, "Yan Xun, what's wrong with the study?""The newly delivered Shu He Incense—I burned half a piece. It contains musk."
"Musk?" Chu Qiao, who knew little about incense, frowned and asked, "What's wrong with musk?"
The young maid Lan Xiang, however, chuckled softly and said with a smile, "Miss, women shouldn't smell musk. If they inhale too much, they can't conceive. Of course His Highness would be concerned."
After speaking, Lan Xiang herself blushed deeply, and the other maids giggled in unison. Yan Xun didn't take offense, pretending not to care, though he glanced sideways to observe Chu Qiao's reaction.
Upon hearing this, Chu Qiao was momentarily stunned. Being a young woman, a rosy hue gradually spread across her cheeks, like the petals of a crabapple flower, making her look especially charming. The candlelight shone on her light blue, flowing skirt, resembling a layer of shimmering mermaid silk.
A soft laugh brushed against her ear, the man's warm breath like a gentle sea tide: "A Chu, you look absolutely beautiful tonight."
Chu Qiao lifted her eyes, her gaze carrying a hint of delight. The bedchamber was vast, with soft, thick carpets spread beneath and layers of gauze curtains drawn down one by one. Golden hooks with tassels exuded an air of extravagance. The bed was draped with purple embroidery, enveloped by sheer green gauze, and the brocade quilt looked so warm that one could almost feel its coziness at a glance. Yan Xun stretched out his hands, and the maids flocked like clouds to help him undress. Seeing this, Chu Qiao froze for a moment, let out a soft "ah," and turned away. Yan Xun chuckled softly at her reaction, and Chu Qiao's face grew even redder.
Combining her past and present lives, she was no longer young and had witnessed her share of romantic encounters. Having spent so many years side by side with Yan Xun, she hadn't always been as rigidly proper as a moralist. Yet today, she felt somewhat flustered.
The maids exchanged knowing glances as they withdrew from the room. Layer by layer, the gauze curtains partitioned the space. Yan Xun's warm breath drew near from behind, accompanied by a husky laugh: "My A Chu has grown up and learned to be shy."
Her usual eloquence vanished without a trace. Yan Xun's arms encircled her from behind, crossing over her abdomen, his lips pressed against her ear as he sighed softly: "I haven't seen you all day."
Chu Qiao felt a pang of nervousness and momentarily didn't know how to respond. Distractedly, she said, "Is the eastern front about to see battle? How are your preparations going?"
"Ah..." Yan Xun sighed helplessly. "A Chu, must you ruin the moment like this? You truly are oblivious to romance."
The fine sand in the water clock trickled down slowly, strand by strand, unceasing. Outside, the wind blew quietly, and occasionally, accumulated snow would break free from the eaves, scattering and drifting. Yan Xun held her quietly, his scent gently enveloping them like the fluttering hem of a summer dress, his voice moist and soothing:
"Did you cough today?"
Chu Qiao shook her head. "It's much better now."
"That's good. Have you been taking your medicine on time?"
"Yes, but it's terribly bitter. It tastes awful."
Yan Xun smiled. "Childish talk. How can medicine not be bitter? You didn't secretly pour it out, did you?"
"Heaven is my witness," Chu Qiao raised three fingers. "I even swallowed the dregs."
"Why?" Yan Xun raised an eyebrow slightly. "Is the room too stuffy?"
"I'm just anxious. With the eastern front about to erupt in war, how can I help you if I remain ill like this?"Yan Xun’s heart warmed, as if bathed in a gentle, flowing warmth. His lips brushed against Chu Qiao’s neck as he murmured softly, “As long as you are well, that is help enough for me.”
Yan Xun’s sleeping robe was thin, almost revealing the outline of his muscles. Nestled in his embrace, Chu Qiao tilted her head slightly, feeling warmth gradually spread through her body. She whispered, “I wish I could be more useful.”
“You are already very useful,” Yan Xun said gently. “All these years, you have followed me wholeheartedly, never thinking of yourself. Now that Yanbei is stable, it’s time for you to start making plans for your own future.”
“For myself?” Chu Qiao felt a little lost. It was such a novel idea. In truth, she knew she wasn’t as strong as she appeared on the outside. She was accustomed to relying on others, to following orders, and to striving tirelessly for a goal. It had been that way when she served her country, and it remained so after she began following Yan Xun. Yet, what she was least adept at was planning for herself. For herself? What could she possibly do?
“Yes,” Yan Xun’s voice was low, carrying a hint of laughter. “When a girl grows up, she must start thinking about her own future. For instance, finding a good family to marry into, a good man to wed, raising children, and living a peaceful, happy life…”
Chu Qiao scoffed lightly. “In these turbulent times, where can one find a good man?”
“You’re right,” Yan Xun said with a smile. “It’s hard to truly know someone’s heart without years of observation. If one were to mistakenly give their heart away, wouldn’t that ruin their lifelong happiness?”
Chu Qiao turned to face him, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Then what do you suggest I do?”
“I suppose I’ll have to take one for the team,” Yan Xun said, his narrow eyes glinting with a sly light, the corners of his lips quirking upward like a cunning fox.
Chu Qiao shot him a sidelong glare. “You make it sound like such a sacrifice!”
“It’s not too much of a sacrifice,” Yan Xun’s voice was as smooth as rippling water, soft and gentle in the air. “But it is a bit of a loss for me.”
Seeing Chu Qiao’s expression darken, Yan Xun laughed heartily and wrapped his arms around her. “Nobles and aristocrats often have three wives and four concubines, yet I am to devote my life to just one wife. Isn’t that a loss for me?”
Chu Qiao snorted. “Then go ahead and take concubines. No one’s stopping you.”
Yan Xun held her tightly and whispered in her ear, “I don’t have the energy for that, nor would I ever want to make you suffer.”
Thick red candles burned brightly, illuminating the room. Chu Qiao felt weak all over, as if her limbs were filled with water. Then she heard Yan Xun’s gentle voice: “A Chu, marry me.”
Her heart warmed, and the corners of her eyes grew moist. The journey had been so arduous. Recalling the hunt from eight years ago, it felt like a lifetime had passed in the blink of an eye.
“Mm,” she replied softly, resting her head on his shoulder. Suddenly, she felt as though life had been incredibly kind to her.
Yan Xun’s chest rose and fell gently as he whispered, “I will always treat you well.”
A faint smile touched Chu Qiao’s lips as she nodded almost imperceptibly. “I’ve always believed in you.”
The room was silent, the gauzy curtains of the bed drapes pooling on the floor. Occasionally, the sound of sand trickling in the copper water clock could be heard, like mulberry leaves rustling in early spring.
“A Chu, once the eastern campaign is over, let’s get married.”Chu Qiao lifted her head to look at him, and Yan Xun gazed back at her, his eyes like a hazy, flowing radiance—pure and warm. In that fleeting moment, it was the same expression from many years ago, when a young boy looked at a delicate child and gritted his teeth to vow, "If anyone dares to harm you, I will fight them to the death!"
Vaguely, time seemed to flutter and scatter like falling petals. Yan Xun held her close, breathing softly, "A Chu, all the storms have passed, and we are still together."
Yes, everyone may change, but you and I will not.
A wide smile bloomed at the corners of her lips as she wrapped her arms around the man’s youthful body, feeling content even with each breath. I have always trusted you, always trusted you, always believed in you.
"Mhm."
The wind was like the spring willows of March, silently sweeping through the curtains. Candlelight flickered, the gauze curtains swayed gently, and their hearts were as serene as fine jade.
—————*—
The next update will be at the same time tomorrow.
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