The day they left Shangshen was exceptionally clear. Though the New Year was approaching and the weather was cold, the sky was bright and blue like a pool of jade water, cloudless for miles. Flocks of wild geese flew southward, and the sunlight, carrying a warm glow, shimmered like gold-dusted silk. On the vast, white snow plains, a line of sturdy warhorses trod along the post road, winding and stretching far into the distance—a procession of over two thousand people.
It was now the end of the year 776 in the Baicang calendar, with just half a month left until the New Year. Along the way, they encountered many merchants traveling from the inland regions to conduct business. Seeking wealth amid danger, commerce in Yanbei had flourished, so even though the border conflicts had not yet ceased, merchants from the interior still took the southern route via waterways to enter Yanbei.
Chu Qiao removed her heavy wind hood and lifted her face to gaze at the azure sky, her eyes clear as water. In the blink of an eye, another year had passed. The young girl of yesteryears had grown taller, her features now carrying a touch of mature elegance. Her hair was neatly tied up, and she wore a blue fur cloak as she rode atop a fiery-red warhorse.
Ge Qi rode back from the front and reported to her, "My lady, Commander He Xiao has sent word that we will camp at the foot of Minxi Mountain tonight. He has already made preparations with the vanguard troops."
Chu Qiao nodded. Suddenly, she heard the shrill cry of a War Eagle overhead and immediately looked up, her gaze distant and contemplative.
Beyond Minxi Mountain lay Huolei Plain, and further ahead was Yanbei's newly conquered northwestern barrier. That land had once been part of Daxia but was now incorporated into Yanbei's territory. The war at Wild Goose Cry Pass had already lasted a full year.
Much had happened this year. The year 775 would undoubtedly be recorded in history as one of the most turbulent and chaotic periods on the Ximeng Continent. After Daxia and Yanbei went to war, the conflict had barely reached its midpoint when Daxia was struck by the Northern Capital civil unrest and the Rebellion of the Seven Princes. These internal crises severely limited the supply of resources and troops for the northwestern campaign. Left with no choice, Zhao Che had to shift from offensive operations to defensive tactics, holding firm at Wild Goose Cry Pass to buy time for quelling the domestic unrest. Just as they began to recover, the Tang Emperor of Biantang suddenly passed away. Crown Prince Li Ce ascended the throne amid the turmoil, and due to provocations by sinister forces within Biantang, minor clashes broke out along the border with Daxia. If not for Zhao Yang being dispatched to the border to swiftly extinguish the flames of war, Daxia would have faced the difficult and awkward situation of fighting on three fronts.
The world had witnessed the evident decline of Daxia, once a military powerhouse, within just a year. In the west, it lacked the strength to retake Yanbei; in the north, it could not pacify the people; in the south, it failed to intimidate Biantang; and in the east, it faced economic constraints from Huai Song. The Ximeng Continent was no longer dominated by a single power as it once was.
Six months ago, Yan Xun formally ascended the throne at Sunset Mountain, declaring Yanbei an independent state with the national title "Yan" and adopting the era name "Chuyuan." Apart from Daxia, neither Biantang nor Huai Song raised any objections. Thus, he finally became the true master of Yanbei's territory, solidifying his position as the undisputed king of Yanbei.That day Chu Qiao didn't go. She dismissed her subordinates and climbed Huihui Mountain alone. At the mountain's peak stood Nada Palace, built by Yanshicheng for his princess consort Bai Sheng. Constructed with snow-white floral bird stones and nestled among crimson and canary blossoms, it resembled an ink wash painting—serene and tranquil without a trace of worldly bustle. Its upturned eaves and intricate brackets were exquisitely crafted like a celestial realm, while the murmuring streams seemed to whisper of the virtuous prince's devotion to his wife.
Sitting atop Huihui Mountain, she heard the leisurely pastoral songs of herd boys drifting from the summer pastures. The melodious, soothing voices brought inner peace, as if all sorrow had vanished. Gazing at the iron-gray silhouette of Sunset Mountain on the horizon, droplets of emotion gradually filled her heart. Even across thousands of miles, she could almost see the man in his golden dragon robes, radiant and majestic. A faint smile curved her lips as she lifted her head to the gentle breeze. The cyan hem of her dress fluttered softly, a lonely corner blooming like a verdant lotus.
The Yanbei of today was no longer the Yanbei of old. With Huai Song's economic support, Yan Xun's strategic advantages, and Chu Qiao's year of infrastructure development and reforms in Yanbei's heartland, the world could foresee this empire's gradual rise. Present-day Yanbei led the other three nations in military weaponry. Under Chu Qiao's leadership, they had established large-scale armories, developed over thirty major mining areas, constructed water conservancy projects, and transformed Yanbei's previously unsuitable farmlands. Around Shangshen and Huihui, vast grain production zones had been cultivated, yielding more than double the previous year's harvest by autumn—achieving basic self-sufficiency for the military. They actively expanded medical institutions, founded military academies, developed trade ties with Huai Song, Biantang, and beyond, revitalized Yanbei's markets, and established merchant caravans.
Although Chu Qiao's proposals to reform the slavery system remained unapproved, enslaved people had become rare in public spaces within her jurisdiction. These enlightened policies and social systems attracted numerous commoners and merchants. Within a year, extensive urban residential districts emerged around Huihui, transforming once-barren lands into a budding commercial hub of the northwest.
Chu Qiao began to understand how a nation, shrouded in oppressive systems for too long, could become like a massive sponge absorbing light once illumination broke through. Yanbei possessed northwest trade routes, vast fertile territories, thriving pastoral industries, control over continental transportation arteries, and immense mineral resources. Its people were diligent, honest, and enduring. Having lived in the modern era for so long, Chu Qiao had never witnessed such fervent public response to government initiatives. They sought no payment, no wages, made no demands on living standards—yet a single call could summon tens of thousands of voluntary laborers, a phenomenon nearly unimaginable in modern times. Chu Qiao couldn't help but reflect that Yanbei possessed all prerequisites for rise and maturity; if not for years of warfare, they might have long become one of the most powerful forces on the Ximeng Continent.The designation of the Southwest Garrison Commander had been abolished, and it was no longer part of Yanbei's regular army. Stationed by the Xiuli River at the foot of Huihui Mountain, the Southwest Garrison Commander was renamed the Xiuli Army, and Chu Qiao was also referred to by the people of Yanbei as Lady Xiuli. The Xiuli Army now had a strength of nine thousand soldiers. Today marked the final delivery of provisions to the frontline military headquarters, and with the New Year approaching, the soldiers deserved some rest.
They arrived at Minxi Mountain before nightfall. Yanbei was mostly plains, and though Minxi Mountain was called a mountain, it was actually just a small hill less than a hundred meters high. By the time Chu Qiao and her group arrived, He Xiao and his men had already set up tents and prepared a meal. After taking a sip of the steaming meat broth, the fatigue of the day began to fade slightly.
Nights in Yanbei were always the most beautiful. Today was the fifteenth day of the lunar month, and the moon was large and round, casting its glow over the vast, snow-white plains. Beyond the mountain lay a tributary of the Chishui River, now frozen solid. When they passed by Mawei City the day before, the city governor had insisted on giving Chu Qiao a gift. Unable to refuse, she had randomly picked a box from the large cart. Upon opening it now, she discovered it was an exquisite blue mink cloak. The craftsmanship of the cloak was superb, entirely sewn from mink tails, with a glossy sheen and an exceptionally soft texture—clearly a rare and high-quality item.
The main tent was stifling, with four braziers lit inside. Chu Qiao draped the cloak over her shoulders and stepped out. She walked all the way to the foot of the mountain, where the world was blanketed in pristine white. Only a few ancient plum trees at the summit stood proudly in full bloom, their vibrant blossoms starkly contrasting against the desolate expanse, evoking a sense of melancholy. Chu Qiao’s solitary figure was bathed in the cold, watery moonlight, casting a faint shadow around her. The local guide had mentioned that atop the mountain stood the temple of the Goddess of Yanbei, built by Yanbei’s ancestors many years ago. Having weathered centuries of storms, it still stood watch over the land of Yanbei.
Chu Qiao lifted her foot and began ascending the rugged mountain path. The snow was deep, reaching her knees with every step. It took over an hour before she finally reached the summit.
The stone hall was entirely constructed of Xilan stone, not very large, standing just over four people’s height. It had entrances on the east and west sides. Standing at the western entrance, Chu Qiao’s gaze fell upon a statue that reached the roof, occupying most of the hall’s interior. The hall was in severe disrepair, with snow leaking through gaps in the roof in many places. The interior was littered with dried spiderwebs and covered in dust, a scene of utter disarray. Only the statue remained untouched by dust, standing tall and majestic. The goddess’s face was as serene as a lotus, and as Chu Qiao looked at her, she felt as if she were seeing Yan Xun’s mother from the Nine Nether Altar many years ago—her eyes calm and gentle as water. The stone-carved contours faintly revealed the fluttering hem of her robe, and her abdomen was noticeably swollen, clearly indicating she was with child.
When she was very young, she had heard Yan Xun say that Yanbei revered a female deity, who had two aspects: one was the fierce God of War, holding a battle axe, symbolizing conquest and slaughter. The other was the gentle Mother Goddess, pregnant with child, representing protection and fertility. Seeing it now, it was indeed true.
Just as she was about to walk to the other side to take a look, she took a step and immediately heard a faint footstep from the eastern side.A fierce wind swept through the great hall, entering from the west door, swirling around the statue, and exiting through the east door. Chu Qiao's figure suddenly stilled. Her brows slightly furrowed as her slender fingers slowly reached for the Moon Breaker sword at her waist. Before she could draw it, the blade suddenly vibrated with a low, dragon-like hum that echoed softly through the hall.
A strange impulse surged in Chu Qiao's mind. Almost involuntarily, she shifted her steps to the left side of the statue and gently, ever so gently, peered around it.
Outside, heavy snow fell while winter plums bloomed. In an inadvertent glance, a familiar figure materialized before her like ripples on water.
Beneath the battle-axe of the female God of War statue, he stood wearing a silver-gray fox fur cloak with the hood half-drawn. His white robe fluttered gracefully, reminiscent of his former elegant demeanor. His eyes were as deep and still as frozen lakes, his lips like vermilion dots on lacquer—still peerlessly distinguished and handsome, beyond any worldly description. A gust of wind blew plum blossoms from outside into the hall, scattering over his shoulders with subtle fragrance. The bright moonlight seemed to pierce through time itself, illuminating this unexpected moment.
He seemed equally surprised to encounter her here. When their eyes met, time flowed backward—memories overlapping with the present. Years passed like flowing water, fate remained unpredictable, yet neither could find words to break the silence.
A fledgling yellow bird fluttered in to escape the snow, landing on the statue's shoulder with a flutter. Its bean-like black eyes curiously observed them while emitting clear, melodious chirps.
His gaze penetrated the deep haze within the hall, his brow slightly furrowed as if wanting to speak, yet no words came. Those warm eyes swept over her slender shoulders, her long neck, her delicate face, finally resting on her surprised eyes. After a long moment, he calmly withdrew his gaze, turned quietly, his solitary figure casting a cold, lonely shadow. The fur tips of his cloak brushed against fine dust on the floor, stirring tiny particles that settled on his snow-flecked boots. With steady steps, he moved toward the vast snowy wilderness beyond the hall.
"There will be heavy snowstorms in the inland regions these coming days. Be careful on your journey."
Just as Zhuge Yue reached the doorway, Chu Qiao's voice sounded behind him—calm, like premium Biantang dragon well tea, subtle and sweet.
He paused involuntarily, glancing back with a raised brow. "Aren't you concerned?"
Chu Qiao nodded honestly. "I am concerned, but I have no choice."
The young woman shrugged helplessly, feigning worry, yet her words carried the warmth of early spring. A flicker of warmth passed through Zhuge Yue's eyes as he replied in an even tone, "Rest assured, my disguised entry into Yanbei's inland has nothing to do with military affairs. I won't jeopardize your interests."
"That's good then." Chu Qiao smiled. "Is there anything I can assist you with?"
"Yes." Zhuge Yue nodded frankly.
Chu Qiao was taken aback, not expecting an actual request. "What is it?"
"Don't report me."
Chu Qiao stared wide-eyed, surprised that Zhuge Yue could jest. After a long pause, she finally responded, "How could I ever?"A bird suddenly chirped cheerfully, darting straight toward a brazier in the corner. The aroma of meat wafted through the air. Chu Qiao walked past the statue and saw a low rosewood carved floor mat placed in a corner of the hall. On it sat an exquisite bronze pot simmering over a small flame, with rich broth bubbling and the fragrance of meat filling the air. A few plates of fresh meat and vegetables were arranged nearby, alongside a silver octagonal wine flask.
Chu Qiao smiled faintly and pointed at Zhuge Yue, asking, "Are you leaving? Then all this is mine?"
Zhuge Yue thought for a moment, then strode over to the low table, sweeping his robe aside as he sat down. He said indifferently, "Wishful thinking."
Zhuge Yue, true to his upbringing in a noble family, had grown up surrounded by luxury and refinement. Even while traveling and in such humble surroundings, he maintained his usual habits. The food was exquisitely prepared—thin slices of lamb rolled into delicate spirals, fresh vegetables still glistening with droplets of water, a testament to how well they had been preserved. The chopsticks were made of pure silver, intricately carved with elaborate patterns. Zhuge Yue picked up a slice of lamb with his chopsticks and placed it into the bubbling bronze pot. The meat quickly changed color, bobbing up and down in the rolling broth as white steam rose, enveloping the space between them. On such a cold day, enjoying a meal like this was truly one of life’s great pleasures.
There was a full set of cups. Chu Qiao still remembered Zhuge Yue’s habits—back in Green Mountain Courtyard, even when he dined alone, he would always set the table with a complete set of utensils, as if many others were dining with him.
She picked up the wine flask, poured a cup for him, and then one for herself. Zhuge Yue frowned slightly and asked, "Didn’t you never drink?"
Her hand holding the cup trembled slightly. He was right—she had never touched alcohol before. But when had she started to develop a taste for this intoxicating brew? She slowly raised her gaze, meeting his eyes calmly, and lifted her cup, saying, "Borrowing flowers to offer to Buddha—I’d like to toast you."
Zhuge Yue’s eyes deepened as he quietly studied her, not reaching for his own cup.
Chu Qiao tilted her head back and drank, then said calmly, "This cup is to thank you for sparing my life and aiding me time and again over the years."
It had been a year since they last met, and Chu Qiao seemed to have grown a little taller. Her delicate face was framed by two slender eyebrows, and her large eyes were veiled in a misty haze, making them difficult to read. Zhuge Yue left the cup of wine untouched in front of him, quietly adding more meat to the pot with his chopsticks. Without looking up, he remarked, "If you’re eating, then eat. Why so many words? Is this a stage play?"
Chu Qiao frowned and replied, "Every meal needs an opening statement."
Zhuge Yue scoffed, "I’ve had enough of dealing with the old men in the capital. I don’t have the energy to exchange pleasantries with you here."
Chu Qiao muttered something under her breath and picked up her chopsticks to eat the meat. Seeing her haste, Zhuge Yue cautioned, "Be careful, it’s hot."
No sooner had he spoken than Chu Qiao let out a soft cry, clearly having burned her mouth. Zhuge Yue raised an eyebrow and murmured two words under his breath: "Serves you right."Though it burned her tongue, the flavor was truly excellent. The two of them sat there, initially chatting with ulterior motives, but gradually became fully absorbed in eating. Soon, the large pot of lamb was nearly empty. Chu Qiao, still unsatisfied, fished around in the pot with her chopsticks, eating all the vegetable leaves like a rabbit.
"I heard you got promoted? Congratulations."
Zhuge Yue said indifferently, "Not bad. I killed eight to ten thousand Yanbei soldiers and earned some military merit. I heard you got promoted too?"
"Likewise. I cleared out the remnants of the Daxia Army at your Meilin Pass and got a position as well." Chu Qiao glanced at him and asked, "I heard you've been appointed as the Western Front Military Commander of Daxia, now on par with Zhao Che?"
"Thanks to His Majesty's grace, these trivial achievements hardly count as glory." Zhuge Yue replied calmly, "I heard the Southwest Garrison Commander was stripped of its designation, expelled from the Yanbei Army's regular forces, and had its weapons and scale restricted."
"The Xiuli Army now belongs to the local security system, so it's only natural for their weapons to be restricted. But I heard the Wei Clan sent Wei Shu Ye to Wild Goose Cry Pass—seems like they're trying to divide your authority?" Chu Qiao raised an eyebrow with a smile.
"Wishes are always good, but whether they can be achieved is another matter. I, on the other hand, heard that the Great Alliance Society leader Wu Daoya has been confined to Sunset City and didn't even attend this winter's military review."
"Every organization has its internal friction. Haven't you yourself risen and fallen several times? Besides, some rumors aren't accurate. For instance, I heard Zhao Yang is actively winning over troops on the southern front, hindering the western front's war efforts—who knows if it's true or not?"
"When three people say there's a tiger, you believe it—indeed, it's not unfounded. I heard you're reforming and developing Yanbei's interior, promoting culture and commerce. Even Daxia merchants are secretly doing business with you—quite impressive."
"I'm just dabbling. But I heard you crushed the Yanbei Army in the battles of Caoqiu and Jinhui, capturing over ten thousand soldiers from the Eighth Squad of the Second Army. Otherwise, we might have taken advantage of the turmoil in northern Daxia to push into its heartland."
"Daxia has been established for over three hundred years—it won't collapse so easily. I heard tens of thousands of Quanrong people starved to death in the north this winter. Aren't you worried they might start a war with Yanbei on the northern front now?"
"What's meant to come will come—worrying is useless. Better to prepare. Besides, I also heard the Li Zhenren in Daxia's northeastern mountains are eager to follow Yanbei's example and seek independence. Do you think they'll succeed?"
"I heard Miss Yu of the Great Alliance Society has also been sidelined."
"I heard the Daxia Elder Council gave an empty seat to the Hexi Murong family last month—truly, fortunes change over time."
"I heard Yanbei has developed an extremely hard material that can forge weapons tougher than steel. Did it come from you?"
"I heard Zhenhuang passed the forty-sixth blockade decree, restricting the flow of combat supplies in the market and planning to attack Huai Song. Was that your initiative?"
"I heard you're on this trip to transport provisions to Yanbei's main camp. If these supplies don't arrive, the main camp will surely run out of food."
"I heard you're on this trip to gather intelligence on trade within Yanbei, investigating forces that trade with Yanbei. Once confirmed, they'll face Daxia's purge."
"Buzz..."Two long, resonant dragon roars abruptly interrupted their conversation. The two swords placed on the floor mat hummed and trembled faintly, as if even they could sense the tense, explosive atmosphere in the air. The little yellow bird had long since vanished without a trace. Outside, the heavy snow fell thick and fast, leaving only the two of them sitting opposite each other. The charcoal fire crackled and burned, and boiling water churned in the copper basin. The deep red chili peppers resembled the blood shed by soldiers.
Ultimately, their positions differed; they stood on opposing sides. And just moments ago, they seemed to have deliberately indulged in this emotional release, as if to remind themselves: they were not friends, nor anything more. Each had their own responsibilities.
"I heard that after the New Year, you will be marrying Yan Xun."
Zhuge Yue finally picked up his wine cup and brought it to his lips, casually uttering these words as if they were of little consequence.
Chu Qiao also lifted her head, calming the turbulent emotions in her chest, and replied softly, "I also heard that you have long been engaged to the daughter of General Le Xing."
Zhuge Yue nodded. "Yes, the wedding date is not far off."
"General Meng is already advanced in years, and General Le Xing holds a stable position in the court. Marrying his child will greatly benefit your career."
Zhuge Yue smiled faintly. "The next time I see you, perhaps I should address you as Princess Yan."
Chu Qiao shook her head and said seriously, "Yanbei has already declared independence. To be precise, you should address me as the Queen of Yan."
Zhuge Yue scoffed, drinking alone without a word. The wind blew between them, carrying a biting chill. As Chu Qiao looked at Zhuge Yue, all the past events seemed to flash before her eyes. She stared blankly, lost in thought, holding her cup, unsure of what to say.
"I've met that person."
"Who?" Chu Qiao asked.
"The one who led me to take troops to kill the Southwest Garrison Commander," Zhuge Yue lifted his head and said slowly, "His name is Cheng Yuan. He is now the commander of the First Army of the Yanbei Army, having taken over Wu Daoya's position. Currently, he is the most powerful figure in Yanbei besides Yan Xun."
Chu Qiao silently lowered her gaze and did not speak. Zhuge Yue looked at her, pondered for a moment, and then nodded, saying, "It was wise of you to retreat to the interior of Yanbei. The Yanbei Army is entangled with complex factions, and it was never a place for you to stay."
Chu Qiao smiled faintly, "Yes, I've lived well this year."
"That's good," Zhuge Yue laughed heartily. "One must fulfill their duties in their position. The Yanbei Army is fraught with intricate power struggles, and the Great Alliance Society is deeply entrenched. If it weren't for the threat of our army, Yan Xun would have long been sidelined and deposed. One or two insightful and benevolent individuals are useless—usurpation has become inevitable. Understanding this reasoning will greatly benefit you."
Chu Qiao nodded, "I understand. Achieving any goal comes at a cost. A little setback won't defeat me."
Zhuge Yue smiled. His fox-fur cloak framed his slightly pale chin. Zhuge Yue was handsome, even carrying a hint of roguish charm. Yet, as he sat before Chu Qiao now, speaking words only the two of them could understand, Chu Qiao suddenly felt that this man understood her deeply. There were things Yan Xun didn't comprehend, things even she herself was unwilling to confront, but he could keenly perceive them clearly through the slightest clues—her dreams, her beliefs, her hopes, her joys, her worries, and so much more.
He was a formidable man. He possessed a sharp instinct for battle, extraordinary martial prowess, cunning political strategies, and the backing of a powerful family. Yet, Chu Qiao could never quite discern what he truly wanted over all these years.
Yan Xun wanted revenge; he wanted to crush Daxia and dominate the world. Zhao Che wanted the throne; he sought to enrich the nation, strengthen the military, and become a heroic ruler. Li Ce also wanted Daxia; he aimed to reclaim lost territories and restore the glory of the Great Tang. But what did Zhuge Yue want? No one knew, and no one could see through him. Gazing into those pitch-black eyes, Chu Qiao felt as though she were gradually sinking into them. His gaze was like a whirlpool, deeply fixed on her—calm on the surface, yet burning with fire within.
Perhaps, perhaps he had once said what he wanted. Amid the misty rain of Biantang's Jiangnan, he had held her, suppressing his pride and anger, and whispered hoarsely, "I need you too."
How could such words have come from his lips? Yet, those words ultimately became her obsession, a nightmare she could never overcome, a jest she could never respond to.
"Zhuge Yue, the battlefield is merciless, and the imperial court is unpredictable. Take care of yourself."Zhuge Yue smiled gently, a rare softness in his expression. His gaze rested on the goddess statue at the center of the hall as he said slowly, "Those things cannot harm me."
Everyone has a fatal weakness, and his was soon to be overshadowed by another's surname. From then on, he would no longer have any vulnerability.
Zhuge Yue stood up, his tall figure appearing extraordinarily handsome under the moonlight, like a marble sculpture. His face shimmered with a brilliant glow as he quietly raised his head to look at the towering statue of the God of War. The woman's delicate features radiated a sharp and imposing heroism. Ancient time had meticulously carved the dark red armor on her body, with fine patterns on the solid red cloud stone resembling flowing blood vessels. She held a sharp battle-axe, standing back-to-back with the Goddess of Fertility, her eyes emitting piercing, fierce light like angry flames and blades.
For a moment, Zhuge Yue's mind grew somewhat dazed. He couldn't clearly articulate his initial feelings upon first seeing this statue. Vaguely, it seemed he could see someone through her - someone who, like this ascended God of War, possessed firm convictions and noble ideals. In the past, he would have scoffed at such notions. Having navigated among powerful families and clans since childhood, he had grown accustomed to deceit, conspiracies, and traps. The belief in humanity's inherent evil was deeply ingrained in him; calculation and speculation had become necessities of life, as habitual as eating and sleeping. But later, gradually, he came to understand that a person doesn't live solely for themselves. One can harbor great ideals, and when someone strives for those ideals, that is when they are at their most beautiful.
He didn't know what force sustained her, nor why she remained so steadfast and resolute. He never believed in fate, yet sometimes he even wondered if perhaps heaven's will stood on her side. For such a person, maybe even fate couldn't bear to let her down.
Some feelings that made him feel hatred and even shame had long been planted in his heart. He detested his own weakness and madness, yet couldn't resist the increasingly burning thoughts that grew day by day. He could no longer pinpoint when it began - back then they were so young, she wasn't even as tall as a horse's leg. How could such absurd feelings have emerged?
Yet in the many nights that followed, waking from dreams at midnight, he would always recall the look in the child's eyes as she departed - resilient, sharp, and unyielding, like an angry young leopard that would never submit to a hunter's whip. He thought he must have been bewitched, enchanted for many years by that steadfast conviction, captivated by those sharp eyes, and by the words she had told him many times: "Zhuge Yue, just you watch!"
And so he watched, continuously watching - watching her break from her cocoon to become a butterfly, watching her ascend to the peak, watching her grow weary all over, watching her fall repeatedly only to rise again and again, watching her stand by others' sides. Though she suffered heartache and injustice, she never wavered, firm as a mountain.In this world, who would remain by your side when you've completely fallen into purgatory? Who would stand with you when you've lost everything? Who would forsake their life to follow you unto death? And who, after being coldly neglected, would still stand unwaveringly by your side?
Yan Xun, how fortunate you are, yet how little you appreciate it.
Zhuge Yue smiled carefreely and turned to leave. Outside, the fierce wind howled, whipping up his cloak and fluttering its edges as he strode away without looking back. If he couldn't obtain it, it was better to let go with grace. In Zhuge Yue's life dictionary, the word "plead" had never existed.
"Zhuge Yue!" Chu Qiao suddenly called out. Zhuge Yue's figure stiffened, and he halted. The young girl rushed over urgently, her footsteps sinking deep into the snow.
Zhuge Yue turned back, slightly furrowing his brows. "Is there something else?"
Chu Qiao untied the Moon Breaker Sword from her waist, held it flat in her hands, and solemnly offered it to him. "Take care on your journey," she said gravely.
Zhuge Yue looked at the sword in her hands but made no move to take it, nor did he show any intention of returning the Lingering Crimson Sword at his waist. Chu Qiao felt slightly awkward, yet she stubbornly kept holding it out, her gaze fixed firmly on him, like a child refusing to eat out of spite for not getting candy.
"What does this mean?"
Chu Qiao bit her lip, pondered silently for a moment, and finally said, "The full-scale war between Yanbei and Daxia is about to erupt. When we inevitably meet on the battlefield, I won't show mercy, and you need no longer concern yourself with me. We..."
Zhuge Yue's expression suddenly turned cold. He lowered his head, brows slightly knitted. Chu Qiao felt uneasy under his gaze, and her voice gradually faded.
"Xing'er, in all honesty, if we meet on the battlefield, would you truly cut off my head?"
Zhuge Yue's voice was low and unhurried, as if the words didn't come from his throat but were transmitted along with the heavy beats of his heart. Chu Qiao's palms were cold, yet fine beads of sweat formed. Her mouth was dry. She took a deep breath, suppressing the discomfort in her heart, and slowly replied, "I won't kill you, but I will do my utmost to defeat you."
A low chuckle drifted over. Zhuge Yue shook his head gently, still looking down. Without a word, he took the sword from Chu Qiao's hand, held it upside down, and stepped away through the snow, turning to leave.
"What a pity, but I cannot."
His hoarse voice echoed on the mountaintop, instantly torn to shreds by the roaring wind that swept through.
It wasn't that he couldn't, but that he wouldn't—because he always knew that for them, defeat sometimes equaled death.
And how could he strip away the only bargaining chip she relied on for survival?
The snow fell heavier and heavier. To the east of Minxi Mountain, a caravan disguised as ordinary merchants was setting up camp, likely Zhuge Yue's men. Chu Qiao stood at the temple entrance, watching the man's figure gradually vanish into the swirling snowstorm. A deep chill seeped into her bones. She walked inside alone, picked up the wine pot from the floor mat, and tilted her head back for a sip. The warm liquid flowed down her throat, carrying a pungent, mellow fragrance.Looking up, she saw the God of War's sharp eyes fixed on her, as if reproaching her recklessness and disregard for the bigger picture. On the other side, the Mother Goddess's gentle gaze seemed to understand all her suffering. Slowly, she slumped to the ground, leaning against a tall pillar as she sat down, hugging her knees. She looked so thin, like a child who hadn't yet grown up.
For the first time in her life, she closed her eyes with her palms pressed together, her weary voice echoing through the grand hall as she murmured quietly, "Where does the path ahead lead? I can no longer see it clearly."
The next day, as they set out, the sound of urgent hoofbeats suddenly came from behind. Across the vast, white snowfield, a fast horse galloped toward them. The woman on horseback wore a silver-gray fox-fur cloak that seemed slightly oversized on her. Riding from the east, she did not slow down upon seeing Chu Qiao's large contingent but charged straight ahead.
He Xiao's heroic brows furrowed as he urged his horse forward, his voice low and stern. "Who goes there? State your name!"
The woman glanced at him, the corners of her eyes lifting as she flashed a brilliant smile, then whipped her horse even harder to charge forward. Frowning, He Xiao moved to intercept her, but the woman raised her willow-like brows and declared in a crisp tone, "Jixiang, kick him!"
As if understanding her words, her warhorse abruptly halted, let out a long neigh, and reared up on its hind legs just as He Xiao approached, its front hooves striking his horse's flank. He Xiao's horse whinnied in pain and collapsed into the snow with a thud.
He Xiao, agile enough, rolled forward and regained his footing, though his helmet had fallen off, leaving his hair covered in snow and looking quite disheveled.
"Who are you?" the man shouted, flushed with anger and embarrassment.
Ignoring him completely, the woman smiled at the approaching figure and asked, "Are you Chu Qiao?"
Chu Qiao nodded, her gaze steady as she observed the woman. She had delicate features, flawless skin, gentle eyes, and a soft countenance. At first glance, she resembled a graceful water lily—pure and pristine, with snow-white complexion and star-like black eyes. Yet, there was a hint of spirited determination in her face, her gaze clear and sincere, creating her own unique aura. She examined Chu Qiao openly and generously, unbothered by being scrutinized in return. However, what caught Chu Qiao's attention was not the woman's appearance but the cloak she wore. If her memory served her right, that very cloak had been draped over Zhuge Yue's shoulders the night before.
At this realization, her eyes tightened slightly, and her brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
"My young master asked me to give this to you."
The Lingering Crimson Sword was neatly wrapped in a scabbard bag. Chu Qiao reached out to take it, nodding in thanks. "Thank you. May I ask your name, miss?"
"My surname is Meng. I believe we will meet again soon. Farewell."
With that, the woman named Meng tugged on the reins, and her horse swiftly turned and galloped away, leaving a fuming Commander He Xiao standing indignantly in place.
"Commander, who is that woman?"
The guards surrounding them were all elite members of the Southwest Garrison Commander's most trusted forces. Without hesitation, Chu Qiao replied calmly, "I suppose she must be Major General Meng Feng, who has been making a name for herself on the Xia-Yan battlefield these past six months."
"Meng Feng? Meng Tian's young granddaughter?"Chu Qiao remained silent, lowering her head to draw the Lingering Crimson Sword. The sharp blade faintly reflected her dark pupils. It had been two years since she last saw this sword, and during these two years, she had grown accustomed to using Moon Breaker.
Ge Qi quietly asked He Xiao beside him, "Is she Meng Tian's granddaughter? She doesn't look like it to me. To be honest, she somewhat resembles our Princess Bai Sheng."
"Don't speak carelessly!" He Xiao hurriedly explained, "She is an orphan girl adopted by General Meng. She was raised like a boy since childhood and even studied at the Shangwu Hall alongside the Meng family's young men. After Zhuge Yue was promoted to Military Governor, she was assigned to serve under him. She has been extremely active on the battlefield these past six months. Why has she come here? Sir, should we pursue and question her? There might be some trickery involved."
Chu Qiao didn't speak but gazed quietly at the sword, lost in thought. Only after He Xiao called out twice did she respond, her expression calm as she said lightly, "Regarding today's events, it's best if everyone acts as if they saw nothing."
Upon hearing this, everyone immediately understood, and the army continued its march.
Meanwhile, Meng Feng finally caught up with Zhuge Yue's disguised party. She secretly removed her cloak, handed it to Zhuge Yue's personal guard, changed her clothes, and walked calmly to Zhuge Yue's side, saying, "The item has been delivered."
Zhuge Yue acted as if he hadn't heard and walked straight ahead. Meng Feng smiled as she watched his retreating figure, her mind racing to analyze the situation. Generally, people who walk away without letting others finish speaking fall into two categories: those who are completely uninterested in the matter, and those who fear having their inner turmoil exposed. Watching her Shangwu Hall classmate whistling leisurely, she thought, what Military Governor Zhuge is thinking is truly obvious to everyone.
"Not a wasted trip, not a wasted trip."
Three days later, Chu Qiao finally arrived at the Yanbei Army camp below the Blood Sunflower River.
After unloading the provisions, it was already dark. Chu Qiao was invited to stay for a meal. After eating, she chatted briefly with some colleagues before returning to her own tent.
It had been a year since she last saw Ping An, and he had grown significantly taller, now resembling a young man. He cheerfully heated water for her, chattering incessantly with great affection.
Yan Xun was not in the camp. A new pass called Dragon's Roar Pass had been constructed near the Blood Sunflower River, facing Wild Goose Cry Pass across the river. The entire Yanbei Army was stationed behind the pass, and he had moved the military headquarters there, rarely visiting this place anymore.
Having trekked through the snow for many days, she hadn't had a proper bath in a long time. Soaking in the bathtub, she felt so comfortable she nearly fell asleep. However, with official documents waiting to be reviewed, she had to quickly finish her bath and drag her tired body to sit under the lamp, carefully reading through them.Over the past year, the continent's situation had been favorable for Yanbei. Not only was Daxia fractured and divided, but even Biantang and Huai Song faced repeated turmoil. The successive deaths of the Emperor of Song and the Tang Emperor left both nations politically unstable, with no capacity to intervene elsewhere. Frequent border clashes with Daxia further diverted Daxia's military resources from the northwest, granting Yanbei crucial breathing room. Moreover, according to intelligence reports, Emperor Xia's health was deteriorating daily. He relied on elixirs from Sorcerers to sustain himself, growing increasingly irritable and forgetful, often ordering mass executions over trivial matters. Zhenhuang City was gripped by panic, with most senior officials feigning illness to stay home. All court affairs, big and small, were handed over to the Elder Council for supervision. With the downfall of the Muhe Clan and Old Batu, and the complete eradication of the Helian Clan, the Elder Council now existed in name only. The Mu family of Lingnan had withdrawn from the capital, leaving the council as little more than a battleground between Wei Guang and Zhuge Mu Qing—everyone else was merely decorative.
Though the Wei Clan appeared prestigious on the surface, its reputation was undeserved. Everyone knew that among the Wei Clan's direct descendants, only the indecisive Wei Shu Ye remained. In contrast, the Zhuge family was upheld by both Zhuge Yue and Zhuge Huai. Zhuge Yue, in particular, had repeatedly distinguished himself in battle. Fighting alongside Zhao Che—one attacking, one defending—they fortified Wild Goose Cry Pass as impregnable. Over the year, Yan Xun and Zhao Che fought to a stalemate, with victories and defeats on both sides, yet Zhuge Yue remained undefeated. Even Yan Xun suffered a major defeat at his hands in Caoqiu, losing over three thousand troops and nearly having his command flag captured by Zhuge Yue's top general, Yue Qi.
The Battle of Caoqiu could only be attributed to Yan Xun's ill fortune. Since rising in rebellion, he had never experienced such a crushing defeat.
The original battle plan targeted Jizhou. Cheng Yuan and Bian Cang, generals of the First Army, each led thirty thousand troops to raid Daxia's grain supply base in Jizhou via waterways and mountain paths. At the time, Zhuge Yue served as the army's quartermaster general and was stationed in Jizhou. However, on that day, Young Master Zhuge whimsically decided to travel to Songyuan for river crabs. En route, he coincidentally encountered the scout cavalry of General Cheng Yuan, thus uncovering the enemy's movements. Upon learning this, Zhuge Yue did not raise the alarm but instead laid a trap, awaiting Cheng Yuan and Bian Cang's arrival. A massive fire subsequently killed over thirty thousand Yanbei soldiers, with ten thousand captured. Disguising his fewer than eight thousand grain escort troops as Yanbei warriors, Zhuge Yue marched boldly through towns and cities under the guidance of Yanbei defectors, advancing directly into Caoqiu. Yan Xun's subordinates remained unaware until Zhuge Yue's forces breached the central camp.
The battle erupted swiftly and ended just as shockingly. After a frenzy of burning, killing, and looting, Zhuge Yue's personal guards uprooted the poles of Yan Xun's command tent. Were it not for the desperate defense by Yanbei's imperial guards, the army's standard might have been seized as well.
Yan Xun was present in the camp that day, but amid the chaos, he could not rally his scattered forces. He regarded this battle as the greatest humiliation of his life, a topic none dared mention in his presence. For Zhuge Yue, however, this victory freed him from logistical duties and propelled him to formal command of Daxia's western front forces.As she studied the battle report now, Chu Qiao pondered it carefully for a long time, yet still felt there were too many loopholes in this battle. First, Zhuge Yue's actions were far too risky. If, on the day he captured the scouts, Cheng Yuan and the others had been even slightly more alert and set up an encirclement to annihilate them, his eight thousand troops would have had no chance of breaking through the siege of sixty thousand. Second, with such a small force infiltrating Yanbei and acting so conspicuously, if he had been recognized, it would have been a near-certain death situation. Third, if the soldiers on duty the night of the camp raid had been more vigilant, or if Yan Xun had managed to control the chaos sooner, Zhuge Yue's chances of success would have been extremely slim. Finally, there was the issue of the retreat. Even now, no one in Yanbei had been able to trace Zhuge Yue's escape route. It was as if they had vanished into thin air, leaving Yanbei's soldiers scouring the northwest region from top to bottom without finding a single trace of them.
If Chu Qiao were to fight this battle, she might have dozens of methods to handle it, but she had to admit that all her ideas were merely theoretical. Victory or defeat in battle often depended on many factors—such as the soldiers' trust and loyalty toward their commander, the army's morale, individual combat capabilities, as well as intelligence, horses, weapons, and so on. It was undeniable that Zhuge Yue's army was exceptionally powerful; the claim that one of his soldiers could take on ten was no exaggeration. However, Chu Qiao still couldn't bring herself to agree with such tactics. Yet, she believed there must be something she hadn't fully grasped—a man like him didn't seem the impulsive type.
But victory was victory. In what seemed like an almost reckless manner, he had managed to kill and set fires within the Yanbei camp while Yan Xun was present in the army. This dealt an unparalleled blow to Yanbei's morale.
Dealing with someone like him required thinking outside conventional frameworks.
The night grew deeper, the air thick with the distinct scent of a military camp. Lamplight fell on Chu Qiao's face, casting the slender outline of her profile onto the tent wall—a clear, elegant silhouette visible from outside.
It had been a year since she last saw Yan Xun. Over this past year, aside from official correspondence, they had almost no interaction. Even the occasional letters were strictly formal in tone. Until recently, an elderly nanny who had cared for Yan Xun in his childhood suddenly arrived at Huihui Mountain and sought out Chu Qiao. She laid out the items Yan Xun had instructed her to deliver, then spent a long time showering Chu Qiao with praises—calling her virtuous, gentle, beautiful as a flower—before Chu Qiao finally understood: the nanny had been sent by Yan Xun to propose marriage.
Propose marriage?
What a ridiculous notion—two people planning to spend their lives together, yet relying on someone else to wag a persuasive tongue. And given the nature of their relationship, had it really reached the point where a marriage proposal was necessary?
In name, the nanny had come to propose, but in reality, she was merely there to inform Chu Qiao. Betrothal gifts flowed in like a river, filling Chu Qiao's room, spilling out into the corridor and courtyard—all rare treasures seldom seen. Eastern pearls the size of a child's fist, fully formed coral taller than a person, cicada-wing gauze so light it could float with a single breath, jade shoes carved entirely from emerald-green jade mined in Cuilan Xigong, chicken-blood stone teardrop necklaces from Minglang Mountain, paired seven-colored enamelware from the southern tributes, along with exotic treasures and rare furs from the Western Regions... It was as if all the world's splendors had suddenly unfolded before her eyes, dazzling and brilliant, almost blinding to behold. Moreover, Yan Xun had declared that he would build a Nada Palace on Sunset Mountain as her residence, just as his father had done. It was then that Chu Qiao learned that in the northern Hu language, "Nada" meant "beloved."
Every luxury imaginable was laid out before her. Perhaps she should have been moved, perhaps she should have shed tears of gratitude and excitement. Yet, in her heart, there was not a trace of joy or exhilaration. Sitting in her bamboo-woven chair, her fingertips pale and cold, she felt only a vast emptiness within. Had it been a year ago, she might have leapt for joy. But now, she couldn't help feeling that all this was Yan Xun's indirect way of comforting and compensating her.Yan Xun was gradually changing, becoming someone she could no longer recognize. Often, she would question the meaning behind everything she had done. Even if Yan Xun were to win, it would merely be the Yan Clan replacing the Zhao Clan—one dynasty supplanting another. All her former ideals were veering onto a different path, yet she continued to shamelessly deceive those kind-hearted commoners, encouraging them to rebuild their homes, to join the army eagerly, and to fight bravely against the enemy. They shed blood and sacrificed their lives on the battlefield, believing they were building a different era for their descendants. Yet, in the end, it might all be in vain. These simple, honest people were fighting a war that had nothing to do with them, and they remained completely unaware.
Whenever she thought of this, Chu Qiao felt like a scoundrel, a thorough and utter fraud.
She wondered if that bookworm Liang had arrived in Yanbei. If he had, would he feel that Chu Qiao had deceived him?
She leaned quietly against the desk, her head resting on the scrolls, feeling somewhat weary. The candle flame flickered faintly, occasionally sputtering with a soft crackle. Everything was so tranquil that she felt as if she might drift off to sleep at any moment.
Yan Xun had been standing outside the tent for a long time. Upon learning that Chu Qiao had arrived a day early, he had ridden through the night with only twenty-some guards to return to the main camp. In the current circumstances, such an action was clearly irrational. There were far too many people who wanted him dead—not only from Daxia and the Quanrong but even from within Yanbei, including those ministers who appeared loyal on the surface. Yet, the desire to see her was so overwhelming that he had, for once, lost his reason. But after rushing all the way here and standing before her tent, he dared not enter.
The King of Yanbei, who had once intimidated the world and dared to lead his troops deep into Daxia's heartland even when Yanbei was in peril, now found himself intimidated by a small tent. Merely approaching it felt like an unattainable luxury.
Nanny Yin had returned and reported that A Chu, upon hearing of the marriage, had wept tears of joy and knelt on the ground to express her gratitude. He knew the old woman had said it to cheer him up. How could someone like A Chu weep tears of joy in front of them? How could she kneel and thank him? After all these years together, he could almost imagine her expression upon hearing the news. She would sit there indifferently, listening to the nanny's incessant chatter, silent and still, her gaze drifting as if she were listening yet not, and when the nanny finished, she would nod lightly and say, "I understand."
Yes, that was exactly how it would be.
Yan Xun recreated the scene in his mind. Beside her would be the scrolls and documents she hadn't yet put away, on the table a cup of tea that had long gone cold. She would be wearing a simple cotton robe, sitting in her chair, her hair loose on either side, detached as if none of it had anything to do with her.
Even though it was their marriage—the marriage they had fantasized about countless times back in Zhenhuang.Yan Xun didn't know where things had gone wrong—or perhaps he did know but refused to face it. He thought he still trusted A Chu; he knew that of all people in this world, she would never betray him. Yet precisely because of this, he was even more reluctant to keep her in the army, unwilling to let her have too much contact with the Southwest Garrison Commander. Circumstances always change; even if you have no such intentions, other people and events will push you, drive you, and force you down this path. He feared the day when their positions would pit them against each other, and when they each had supporters behind them, there would be no retreat.
A Chu was an outstanding strategist but not a skilled politician. She would never understand just how dark politics could be. As for him, to achieve his ambitions, how many rivers of blood must he cross, how many mountains of skulls must he pile high? He had no regrets; all of this was his own choice. It wasn't like forcing a virtuous woman into prostitution—no one compelled him to do this. He even relished it, thoroughly enjoying the process of scheming and slaughter. The resentment and hatred accumulated in his heart over the years gnawed at him day and night like insects. Those humiliations were nightmares he could never forget in this lifetime. Yet, he only hoped that as he carried out these deeds, she would not be there to witness them, not watch him with those clear, black and white eyes, gradually losing hope and sinking into despair.
She might be angry now, but time would smooth everything over. He had a lifetime to make amends and explain.
A determined smile curled at Yan Xun's lips. When he held the world in his hands, she would understand everything he had done today.
The lamplight in the great tent cast a slender shadow, its features and outline so distinct that he could distinguish where the nose was, where the eyes were, where the hands lay.
The moonlight shone upon him, his black heavy fur appearing oppressive and weighty. The man's figure stood solitary, with a vast expanse of barren whiteness behind him. In the distance, soldiers were singing the long, melodious tunes of Yanbei, their notes rising and falling as if ascending to the heavens.
Yan Xun slowly raised his hand. Under the moonlight, a faint gray shadow projected onto the tent. His hand lifted higher, closer and closer, until at last the gray shadow touched the nose, cheek, and forehead of the dark silhouette. The unreal light and shadow traced the outline of the woman inside the tent, like a lover's hand.
He wanted to reach out and touch her hand, but just as he was about to make contact, a dark cloud suddenly drifted over, blocking the moon. Instantly, the land plunged into darkness. Yan Xun stood there awkwardly, hand still outstretched. The snow on the ground was swept up by the wind, dusting his heavy fur, leaving him looking like a statue.
After three days in the military camp without encountering Yan Xun, it wasn't until the fourth day, when he descended from the pass, that Chu Qiao saw him. She was packing her belongings when Yan Xun abruptly walked in without any soldier announcing him. Blinding light streamed in from behind him, and as Chu Qiao looked against the light, her eyes were momentarily dazzled.
Yan Xun was dressed in a black robe embroidered with dark golden dragons, his eyes deep as pools as he gazed at her silently for a long time without speaking.The light was too dazzling, tiny dust motes drifting up and down in the beams. Chu Qiao looked at Yan Xun, vaguely recalling it seemed like the Yingge Courtyard from many years ago. The young man returning from practice, drenched in sweat, always liked to stand silently behind her, waiting for her to notice. Back then, they were so lonely, with no one else around except each other. Unlike now, surrounded by thousands, yet growing further and further apart.
Chu Qiao stood up, wanting to curtsey in greeting, but the words "Your Majesty" simply couldn't pass her lips. Yan Xun walked forward and took her hand. She didn't avoid him, nor did she look up. Her body was slowly embraced by his arms, her forehead pressed against his chest. The steady, powerful heartbeat echoed in her ears, reminding Chu Qiao of the thunderous war drums on the walls of Beishuo City. The morning sun was as red as blood, the earth bathed in golden light, the tent flap billowing in the wind. Chu Qiao kept her eyes open, as if she could see the lush green pastures of midsummer. Her heart had already drifted far away, far away—anywhere but here.
"A Chu, are you leaving?" Yan Xun asked softly, but received no reply for a long time. He released her and saw her wandering, unfocused eyes, like deep pools, dark and unfathomable.
"A Chu?"
Chu Qiao lifted her head and nodded. "Yes, I leave tomorrow."
"The New Year is almost here. Stay."
"It's not a good idea. There are still matters I need to return to attend to."
Yan Xun insisted, "Leave the matters to others. I want to spend the New Year with you."
"The Quanrong People are eyeing Meilin Pass. I'm not at ease."
"The Quanrong People also celebrate the New Year," Yan Xun said, looking at her as if nothing had ever happened between them, stubbornly adding, "You don't need to handle everything personally. I will arrange for others to take care of it."
Chu Qiao had nothing more to say. She lowered her head, watching the light cast small circles on the ground, like mottled grids. Yan Xun's mood suddenly brightened. He smiled and said he wanted to take Chu Qiao to Xiling City for the New Year—a city he had newly built, describing how prosperous and lively it was. He had prepared a comfortable residence and personally arranged her room. He repeatedly emphasized a particular snack there, one he had eaten as a child. After reclaiming Yanbei, he had searched the entire country for the master who made that snack, only to find that he had died in the war. Fortunately, his son was still alive and had inherited his father's craft, now staying in a villa in Xiling City.
He spoke so much, even becoming somewhat long-winded. After listening for a long time, Chu Qiao suddenly looked up and said quietly, "Yan Xun, I don't want to stay here."
Yan Xun was suddenly stunned, his tongue seeming to tie. His incessant chatter came to an abrupt halt. He looked at Chu Qiao, and after a long while, slowly said, "Are you still blaming me?"
Chu Qiao shook her head, her eyes calm and unruffled.
"I just don't want to stay here and pretend with you that everything is fine, acting as if nothing happened. When you've figured everything out, let go of everything, and no longer harbor suspicion or wariness, I'll come back."
Yan Xun stood there, his expression turning very aloof. He gave Chu Qiao a deep look, then turned and walked out, his strides large and swift, disappearing from sight in an instant.Chu Qiao sat on the bed, suddenly feeling exhausted. This cold war felt utterly meaningless, yet she couldn't find another way out for herself. The Quanrong People were still provoking beyond the pass, the spring flood would come after the New Year, and she needed to prepare early. There was also the trade exchange in early spring—matters piled up endlessly. At least she still had things to occupy herself with. Chu Qiao smiled bitterly in resignation and continued packing. This military camp was too oppressive; she didn't want to stay a moment longer.
Yan Xun sat in the central command tent, with generals standing on both sides. The atmosphere inside was stifling, the soldiers dejected, showing no trace of New Year's cheer.
"If we go to war, with our current strength, our Second Army can handle 100,000 to 150,000 Daxia troops. With a bit of luck, we could withstand half of Daxia's forces for two consecutive days. But the precondition is that the opposing commander cannot be Zhuge Yue. He recently annihilated over 2,000 of our men in Sparrow Book Valley, and the soldiers now hold him in deep awe and fear. I'm worried about low morale affecting the battle."
Another officer stepped forward: "Scouts report that Zhuge Yue is temporarily absent from the army, having returned to Zhenhuang. Emperor Xia is critically ill, and as Zhao Che's ally, he should support Zhao Che's ascension. However, rumors say Emperor Xia has already designated his successor internally, and Zhao Che isn't on the list."
"The New Year approaches, Daxia's military morale is unstable, and Zhuge Yue is absent. If we seize this opportunity to charge into Wild Goose Cry Pass, it's not impossible. Your Majesty, this is the operational plan drafted by our staff department."
Yan Xun coldly scanned the battle plan, covered in colorful, elaborate diagrams detailing cavalry advancing first, shield soldiers following—all tedious descriptions of frontal assaults and flanking maneuvers. Frowning at the thirty-something general, he said coldly, "This is the battle plan your staff department worked on day and night for over ten days?"
The man started, sweat beading on his forehead, stammering, "We analyzed the strengths and weaknesses of both armies, studied..."
"Enough." Yan Xun cut him off sharply. "Is there anything substantive to report?"
Seeing Yan Xun in such a foul mood, no one dared speak further. Soon, everyone in the tent withdrew, leaving Yan Xun alone, his expression dark and brow furrowed.
But shortly after, a figure suddenly entered, dropping to his knees with a thud and speaking in a hushed voice: "I have fulfilled my mission. I have crucial intelligence to report to Your Majesty."
The afternoon light was glaring, illuminating a vivid crimson cloud embroidered on the man's clothing—once the emblem of the Southwest Garrison Commander's banner, now the symbol of the Xiuli Army.
That day, Yan Xun skipped dinner. He immediately gathered his trusted aides and left the base with 5,000 imperial guards, not even bothering to inform Chu Qiao.
As hoofbeats echoed beyond the camp gates, Chu Qiao's Lingering Crimson Sword, resting on her desk, emitted a low hum. Puzzled, she turned to look but saw only a wisp of incense smoke curling from the burner.
Vaguely, she felt her heart pounding fiercely, thumping loudly. She took a sip of tea, the cool liquid sliding down her burning throat, yet it failed to quell the inexplicable panic rising within her.What's going on? She frowned slightly as heavy snow fell outside, leaving the world desolate and bleak.
——————Divider——————
The recent update schedule has been quite erratic, my apologies. I had hoped to reach thirty thousand words, but fate had other plans. I'll be going into seclusion for two more days. Please hold your breath and await the first wave of devastating turmoil in the Yanbei volume.
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