The night was deep, wild birds swept overhead, their claws shimmering with the phosphorescent glow of decaying flesh. Hooves struck the ice layers that had accumulated over thousands, even tens of thousands of years, clattering like a drumbeat against the temples. The wind blew from afar, carrying a dry, frigid chill as the weather grew colder. The north wind howled like a maddened tiger all day long. Chu Qiao, seated on horseback, tucked her neck deeper into her collar, licked her parched lips with her tongue, and trailed the distant lights ahead without closing in.
After what felt like an eternity, the procession finally halted. Chu Qiao swung down from her horse, feeling the muscles in her face nearly frozen stiff and numb. She rubbed her cheeks with her hands, unloaded her pack from the saddle, and after unwrapping the large bundle, began gathering firewood to start a fire.
Meanwhile, not far ahead, wisps of cooking smoke rose from the dark, densely packed military camp.
The fur curtain of Yan Xun’s tent shifted as A Jing stepped inside, his head covered in snowflakes. Spotting a young officer standing beside Yan Xun, whispering a report with a grim expression, A Jing’s face immediately darkened.
Yan Xun cast him a fleeting glance, his gaze detached and unreadable, as he continued listening quietly to the officer, nodding occasionally. A Jing stood awkwardly at the entrance, his cheeks flushing slightly. After a long while, he deliberately coughed and announced loudly, "Your Highness, I have matters to report."
Yan Xun seemed to notice his presence only then. He lifted his head, regarded him coolly, and replied impassively, "Wait outside."
A Jing’s face flushed even deeper red. He glared angrily at the man beside Yan Xun, who remained bent in a posture of utmost humility and respect, not even lifting an eyelid at his entrance. Fuming, A Jing grunted in acknowledgment, then turned and stomped out of the tent, his boots thudding heavily on the ground.
Outside, the cold was biting. The north wind whipped up heavy snow, and torches soaked in pine oil hissed and crackled in the gale. A Jing stood by the entrance, where the guards on duty offered him only perfunctory salutes without a word. A wave of discomfort washed over him—he no longer recognized anyone in the Imperial Guard, and his position as captain felt increasingly hollow.
After what seemed an interminable wait, A Jing, shivering uncontrollably, hopped from foot to foot and rubbed his hands as he paced back and forth. Suddenly, the curtain stirred again, and the young officer emerged, clad in a crisp, deep-blue military uniform, his features handsome and stern.
"Ahem... Ptooey!"
A Jing deliberately coughed and spat forcefully at the officer’s feet, the spittle landing squarely on the tip of his boot. The officer halted, slowly turned his head, and met A Jing’s provocative gaze. His expression remained blank, his eyes dark and inscrutable. After a slight pause, he acted as if nothing had happened and strode off into the thick darkness.
"Coward! Weakling!" A Jing shouted after him. "No wonder you’re a deserter!"
The night was pitch black, and the man’s figure vanished from sight in an instant. A Jing snorted twice, then turned and reentered the tent.
Yan Xun was studying a map by the lamplight and did not look up at the sound of A Jing’s footsteps, merely asking in a low voice, "What is it?"A Jing composed himself and quickly said, "Your Highness, the young lady is still following behind. On such a cold night, without a tent to stay in, she might..."
"What?" Yan Xun's handsome brows slowly furrowed as he lifted his head. His eyes were dark and heavy, his voice low and drawn out, yet carrying clear traces of anger. "Didn't you say she had already returned?"
A Jing scratched his head and replied softly, "Yes, I saw with my own eyes the young lady turn her horse around and head toward Beishuo. Who would have thought she'd follow us again by evening?"
"Useless!" Yan Xun slammed the map onto the table, his voice filled with fury. "A group of men, and you can't even keep track of one person."
A Jing hung his head dejectedly, saying nothing, but inwardly thought: That's your most cherished person. We didn't dare lay hands on her, use force, or even tie her up and send her back. She agreed perfectly well to accompany us for a stretch before returning—who knew she'd follow again?
Yan Xun turned and grabbed the heavy fur cloak from the rack, draping it over his shoulders as he strode out. Seeing this, A Jing's face lit up with delight, and he hurried forward eagerly. "Your Highness, I've already prepared your horse. Let's hurry—if we're late, the young lady will suffer from the cold. I knew it—how could you possibly ignore her? In Yanbei, aside from you, she's the second most important figure. She shared both hardships and comforts with you in Zhenhuang—how could she be compared to those ungrateful traitors? I always knew..."
But before he could finish, he suddenly realized the person behind him hadn't followed. He turned back to see Yan Xun standing in the center of the large tent. The flames from the lantern cast a flickering light on his face, his features shifting between brightness and shadow, with faint grayish hues dancing across his cheeks like an impenetrable mist.
"Your... Your Highness?"
A Jing called out tentatively in a soft voice. Yan Xun stood there, his gaze silent, like clouds drifting across the sky. Finally, he lowered his hands, which had been tying the cloak's cords, and said calmly, "Take twenty imperial guards and bring her here."
"Ah?" A Jing stared blankly, his mouth agape. "Your Highness, aren't you coming?"
Yan Xun didn't respond, merely turned away indifferently, removed his cloak, and slowly walked to the desk. His fingers traced the vast map of Yanbei, and he remained silent for a long time.
Yan Xun's figure was engulfed in the layers of lamplight, so brilliant it was almost blinding. For a moment, A Jing felt as if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Staring at Yan Xun's back, he suddenly recalled that dazzling morning many years ago in the Holy Gold Palace, when the Emperor of Daxia emerged slowly from the depths of the palace. Kneeling in the midst of the crowd, he had secretly lifted his head, only to be nearly blinded by the gleaming golden dragon robe.
"Yes, I obey your command.A Jing acknowledged the order, but just as he was about to leave, he heard Yan Xun's deep voice say, "From now on, do not enter the main tent without being summoned.""
The young Yanbei soldier nodded silently, his earlier liveliness gone, replying stiffly and formally, "Yes, I obey your command."
When Chu Qiao followed A Jing into the camp, Yan Xun had already retired for the night. She stared blankly at his darkened tent, lost in thought. Feng Zhi came running over, looking somewhat uneasy, and said, "His Highness has been traveling all day—he must be very tired.""Mm," Chu Qiao nodded without any particular emotion, simply saying quietly, "Then I'll head back first."
By the time she returned to the tent, her hands and feet were already numb from the cold. A Jing enthusiastically brought people in to deliver hot water for her. Though most soldiers didn't know her personally, they had heard of her name and deeds, so they gathered outside peeking in curiously until A Jing scolded them away.
After a while, the tent flap moved and a small head popped in from outside, smiling as he said, "Lady Chu!"
"Ping An?" Chu Qiao was slightly surprised to see Du Ping An wearing a child-sized military uniform. After just a few days apart, he seemed to have grown taller. After the Beishuo battle concluded, she had fallen ill and hadn't been able to attend to him. She hadn't expected to see him here today and quickly asked, "What are you doing here?"
"I've enlisted!"
"You? Enlisted?" Chu Qiao was taken aback. "How old are you?"
"My lady, don't look down on me! General A Jing just announced that from now on, Ping An will be your orderly. You can assign any miscellaneous tasks to me."
An orderly? That might be for the best—at least he wouldn't have to go to the battlefield. Chu Qiao smiled faintly and ruffled the child's hair. "Go tell A Jing I thank him."
"The General isn't on night watch tonight—it's Lord Cheng's turn."
Chu Qiao's eyebrows rose slightly. A Jing was Yan Xun's personal guard, always his most loyal protector—how could he not be on night watch? She asked, "Lord Cheng? Which Lord Cheng?"
"I don't know either." Ping An, still young, frowned childishly. "I just know that lord's surname is Cheng."
"Oh," Chu Qiao nodded. "It's getting late, you should go back and rest now."
Ping An responded cheerfully and seemed very happy as he bounced out the door. Watching his retreating figure, Chu Qiao suddenly felt somewhat sad. In modern times, a child his age would still be carrying a backpack to school every day, hiding in his parents' arms to whine and cry when things went wrong. But here, he had prematurely taken on the responsibility of caring for his younger sister, living a life where he literally licked blood from blades.
After washing her face, the previously scalding water had already cooled somewhat. She took off her boots with some difficulty, hissing in pain—her feet were swollen from frostbite, reddish-purple and itching whenever they warmed by the fire. She took a deep breath, ate a bite of the dry rations that had been delivered earlier, then leaned against the warm bedding, slightly lost in thought.
That incident from days before had ultimately created a rift between them. No matter how composed she appeared on the surface, or how hard Yan Xun tried to adjust and make amends, some things were like porcelain—once cracked, no amount of repair could truly fix them. At best, one could only gild the edges and embed jewels to maintain appearances.For her illness, Yan Xun delayed the army's departure by two full days. During these two days, he stayed by her sickbed day and night, feeding her, bringing her water, and even personally brewing her medicine. His attentiveness made those around him uneasy. However, when Chu Qiao proposed joining the army, he firmly refused. His reasons were so well-founded that they were almost irrefutable. No matter how considerate and reasonable his words sounded, Chu Qiao’s mind kept echoing Yan Xun’s words from that day: "If they violate military discipline again in the future, I will not show any leniency."
It was a warning, but how could she be sure it wasn’t a signal? Chu Qiao felt guilty for thinking this way. Since when had she become so guarded against him? Except for that one day, Yan Xun had been as good to her as ever—so good that she almost believed everything that had happened was just a dream. Yet, on the day the army set out, when she stood fully armored at the city gate, kneeling on one knee to request permission to join the campaign, Yan Xun grew angry.
It was the first time he had ever lost his temper with her. He didn’t shout in rage but instead stared at her for a long time, as if seeing many things through her slender shoulders. In the end, he only softly asked, "A Chu, what are you worried about?" Then, before she could answer, he rode past without even looking back.
The soldiers surrounded her, urging her to return to the residence immediately. She quietly watched Yan Xun’s retreating figure and suddenly felt a deep desolation in her heart. He understood everything, knew everything. His thoughts were so complex. He had asked her, "What are you worried about?" But Yan Xun, what about you? What are you worried about?
In the end, she still followed him. Just as he had said, she was worried. Yes, she was worried about him. She feared he would annihilate the Southwest Garrison Commander. On the battlefield, there were countless ways to quietly and untraceably eliminate a unit. The officers and soldiers of the Southwest Garrison Commander had risked their lives to follow her; she couldn’t let them die without reason.
Perhaps she was being overly suspicious, but Yan Xun, since you know what I fear, why not give me your assurance? Or is it that you dare not, and what I fear is already part of your plan?
The charcoal fire on the ground burned quietly. It was high-quality white charcoal, emitting only a faint, almost invisible wisp of smoke. Chu Qiao stared fixedly at it until her eyes grew dry and sore. Her illness hadn’t fully recovered, and after a day of traveling in the cold wind, exhaustion washed over her like a tide. Dressed in a thin white robe, she curled up on the bed, blew out the candle, and quietly fell asleep.
Outside, the moon shone brightly on the snowy ground, casting a pale glow. Inside the tent, it was pitch black. The wind howled, and with no trees in sight, only the cries of night hawks could be heard, sharply piercing the silent night sky.
An unknown amount of time passed. In the darkness, a cold sensation suddenly touched her foot. Chu Qiao, with her eyes closed, frowned slightly, then sat up abruptly as if electrocuted, coldly demanding, "Who’s there?"In the darkness, a tall figure sat at the foot of the bed. The man wore soft cloth garments, and by the faint light, one could vaguely discern the contours of his features. He sat there, gently holding her frostbitten feet in his palm. A bowl rested on the edge of the bed, from which a strong medicinal aroma emanated.
"Awake?"
Yan Xun spoke quietly, then stood up to light the candle. The warm yellow flame illuminated his face, carrying a tranquil and gentle aura. He sat back down, extended his slender fingers, dipped them into the medicine, and carefully applied it to her frostbite. His fingertips were warm, like a soft breeze gently brushing over her toes and the back of her feet. Without looking up, his eyes like a pool of cold water, calm and unruffled, he said, "Your feet need medicine every day. In the army, it's not like the mansion where maids serve you. Affairs here are complicated—don’t forget to take care of yourself when you’re busy."
The medicine felt cool and soothing as it was applied. Chu Qiao’s feet were small and delicate, with a section of her snow-white calf exposed. Yan Xun held her ankle with one hand while applying the medicine with the other, his voice like water, quietly washing away the awkwardness and unspoken words between them.
"Mm, I know." Chu Qiao nodded, lightly biting her lip, unsure of what else to say. She recalled those years in the palace, when her feet would frostbite every winter—red, swollen, festering, and oozing pus. At its worst, she couldn’t even walk. In the early days, they had no medicine, so Yan Xun would rub her feet with liquor. When he saw her in too much pain, he would teasingly say he’d get her drunk so she wouldn’t feel it. Back then, Yan Xun’s eyes would curve as if stars had shattered within them, sparkling brightly. Even now, she still dreamed of him like that at night—so vividly that she almost forgot what he looked like now.
"Rest well." After applying the medicine, Yan Xun stood up, holding the bowl, and said, "I’ll take my leave now."
"Yan Xun…"
As soon as he turned, he felt the corner of his robe grasped by a small, pale hand. The hand was so thin, its fingers slender and white as if translucent. Hearing her voice, his heart suddenly softened. He turned back, looked into Chu Qiao’s eyes, and asked quietly, "What is it?"
"Are you angry with me?"
Yan Xun looked at her and replied calmly, "Should I be angry?"
Chu Qiao breathed a little heavily. The tent felt stuffy. She pursed her lips and said, "I don’t know."
The atmosphere abruptly turned cold. Neither of them spoke, and an awkward tension flowed through the air. Yan Xun stood tall and elegant, his ink-black hair and obsidian-like eyes quietly fixed on her. Chu Qiao’s cheeks were pale as she finally lifted her head slowly, met his gaze, tugged gently at his sleeve, and whispered, "Just let me follow you, alright?"
Yan Xun stood silently for a long time, watching her face without speaking. Countless emotions flashed through his mind, making it hard for him to grasp his truest self. The rise of the Yanbei regime had been too rapid; it was like sailing against the current now, where every step required caution. Frowning, he silently reviewed his future plans and strategies, filtering and weighing each one. Finally, he spoke: "A Chu, do you know what Yanbei’s greatest hidden danger is at present?"Chu Qiao looked up but did not respond, knowing her answer was unnecessary at this moment. Sure enough, Yan Xun answered his own question: "Warlords carving up territories, each governing independently, the Datong faction's influence deeply entrenched, military orders unstable, everyone loyal to their own commanders—these are Yanbei's fatal flaws."
Yan Xun reached out and tucked a stray lock of Chu Qiao's hair behind her ear, saying, "All of this requires rectification and purging. Though bloody, it is the inevitable path for any regime to consolidate power. There is no right or wrong—circumstances force me down this road. I don’t want you entangled in it. Do you understand?"
Chu Qiao nodded. "I understand, Yan Xun. I don’t seek to command troops; I only wish to remain by your side."
Hearing her words, Yan Xun visibly paused in surprise. He had assumed Chu Qiao had caught up to him to take command of the Southwest Garrison. For a moment, he couldn’t discern her intentions, yet a warm ripple slowly stirred in his heart. He nodded gently and said, "That’s good."
As Yan Xun released her hand and prepared to leave, donning a blue cotton cloak that accentuated his slightly gaunt frame, Chu Qiao watched him, a pang of sorrow suddenly welling in her heart. Biting her lip, she asked, "Yan Xun, do you trust me?"
Yan Xun halted his steps but did not turn around. His voice was like the soft murmur of ocean waves over fine sand, drifting faintly through the air. "A Chu, I have never doubted you. I only wish to shield you from turmoil before chaos descends. That is all."
The tent flap swayed slightly, and his figure vanished in an instant. Seated on the bed, Chu Qiao abruptly lost all drowsiness.
The water clock dripped steadily; everything was tranquil and serene. She recalled words spoken many years ago—their mutual promise to harbor no secrets, to always be honest with each other, never allowing misunderstandings or barriers to stand between them. Yet, alas, this remained but a dream. In this world, there are many things one cannot share with others, especially those who love you.
She ought to trust him. Chu Qiao bit her lip quietly. If she couldn’t trust him, whom else could she trust?
She tried hard to convince herself, then lay down. But just before closing her eyes, she vaguely saw again the row of severed heads in the square that day, blood splattering, the ground in disarray.
After seven days of travel, they finally reached the Blood Sunflower River in Yao Province. The main camp was built against the mountains, garrisoning two hundred thousand troops. From afar, it appeared as a sea of iron armor.
Chu Qiao’s relinquishment of command over the Southwest Garrison was not without reason. After the Battle of Beishuo, her prestige in Yanbei nearly rivaled Yan Xun’s. The military held her in high esteem, and coupled with her years of service alongside Yan Xun, she had quietly become the second most influential figure in Yanbei. As for the Southwest Garrison—the very rebels who had directly led to Yanshicheng’s defeat—the people of Yanbei harbored complex feelings toward them: years of resentment intertwined with gratitude for their defense of Yanbei. Such sentiments were easily exploitable by others.The loyalty of the Southwest Garrison Commander to Chu Qiao was known throughout the land. If she continued to lead this force, Yan Xun would lose command over the Southwest Garrison, and this army would become her de facto private legion—something no ruler could ever tolerate. Therefore, she had to relinquish her military authority and stand by Yan Xun's side. This way, in case of any incident, she would occupy a neutral position, which would be beneficial both for the Southwest Garrison and for herself.
Her reasoning was sound, yet when she saw the newly appointed commander of the Southwest Garrison, she froze in shock. Her brows furrowed tighter and tighter, her gaze sharp as a blade. The young officer in the blue military uniform smiled politely at her and calmly said, "Commander Chu, it has been a long time."
"General Cheng." Chu Qiao's eyes were icy cold as she let out a scornful laugh and slowly replied, "Since we parted at Beishuo, with General Xue Zhiyuan tragically killed and General Cheng following General Xia An away, I thought I would never have the chance to see your esteemed face again in this lifetime. Yet, to my surprise, we meet again here today—truly a delight beyond measure."
Cheng Yuan smiled faintly and said indifferently, "Destiny brings people together in the most unexpected places. You and I, Commander, must be fated to cross paths."
Chu Qiao snorted coldly and turned to walk toward Yan Xun's main tent. As she walked, she said sharply, "He Xiao, keep an eye on the troops. Before I return, no one is to give orders to the Southwest Garrison Commander!"
"Yes!" He Xiao replied loudly.
The cold wind blew against Chu Qiao's face, her furious cheeks flushed red.
General Xue, I can finally avenge you!
————Divider————
Skipping work for three days should mean updating 20,000 words, but it's my birthday today, so I'm taking the day off without guilt...
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