Chu Qiao had actually been awake all along; she simply refused to open her eyes. She knew people were moving around her, someone was softly calling her name, someone was weeping sorrowfully, someone was feeding her medicine, and someone was silently watching her—neither approaching nor speaking.
She was aware of it all, yet she didn't want to wake up. She remained in a dazed slumber, her heart like cold, withered firewood, desiccated and devoid of nourishment. She kept having the same recurring dream: a world of icy coldness, where she floated in a pitch-black frozen lake. The surroundings were so frigid, with shards of ice lightly brushing against her skin. Zhuge Yue faced her, sinking bit by bit. A faint, eerie light shimmered behind him, casting his face deathly pale. Only his eyes remained dark and bright, like stars, unreadable and emotionless, just quietly watching her as he slowly, gradually sank into the depths.
For the first time in her life, Chu Qiao felt so fragile. She was exhausted, wanting to sleep forever, with nothing left in life to cling to. The dreams she had once been so fanatically devoted to were shattered in an instant. She didn't want to think, lacked the strength to think, and didn't even have the courage to open her eyes and face reality. She wanted to escape, weakly believing that if she kept her eyes shut, none of it had happened. Only at this moment did she finally realize that she, too, was a woman—capable of pain, sorrow, injury, and despair. She refused to eat, refused medicine, and didn't drink a single drop of water.
Then one day, a sudden uproar erupted outside her door. Someone was loudly cursing her, spewing venomous words that pierced straight into her heart. The voice was so familiar that she frantically opened her eyes, scrambled out of bed, but only had time to see Zhu Cheng's body, impaled and bleeding.
The young, unskilled-in-martial-arts steward was covered in wounds, his clothes torn and face smeared with blood, like a madman gone berserk. One of his arms had already been severed, yet he still tried desperately to charge inside. Blood trailed across the bluestone pavement in the courtyard. His eyes were bloodshot as he cursed and attacked the guards with his remaining hand. The guards didn't strike lethally; they merely stopped him from approaching the room, knocking him down again and again, then coldly watching him stagger to his feet each time.
"You heartless, ungrateful woman!"
Zhu Cheng roared hoarsely. His body was covered in sores and frostbite, many areas festering—clearly injuries from prolonged exposure in the snow.
Jing Zisu held her, trying with trembling hands to cover her eyes, but Chu Qiao stood rigidly straight, like a sharp spear, unmoving as she watched Zhu Cheng being knocked down repeatedly, only to rise again and charge toward her.
"Stop."
Chu Qiao said softly, her voice low.
"Stop!"
She suddenly shouted, stumbling as she pushed Jing Zisu aside and ran outside. The wind was bitterly cold, like icy blades. She ran frantically, shoving aside the guards blocking her path, yelling, "All of you, stop!"
"I'll kill you!"
Zhu Cheng bellowed, clumsily brandishing a blade as he charged forward. Chu Qiao stood there dumbly, as if she were no longer the agile modern special agent. She remained rooted to the spot, neither dodging nor avoiding the oncoming strike, staring blankly as the war blade descended toward her head.However, just as the sword tip pierced her clothing, a sharp arrow shot through the air, accurately penetrating Zhu Cheng’s heart. Blood sprayed from the young steward’s mouth, splattering all over Chu Qiao’s cheeks. The man’s body trembled, his pupils instantly dilating. His knees weakened, and he collapsed to the ground with a thud. Chu Qiao caught him, only to see him staring at her with a gaze full of loathing and hatred. With his last ounce of strength, he spat a bloody glob of phlegm onto Chu Qiao’s face and cursed coldly:
“Bitch!”
With a dull thud, Zhu Cheng fell to the ground, raising a cloud of dust that clung to Chu Qiao’s blood-stained cheeks like tiny winged insects. She slowly lifted her head, only to see Yan Xun’s indifferent face.
Setting down his bow and arrow, Yan Xun walked over with a gloomy expression, looking down at her from above. He said in a low voice, “I have already announced to the world that it was you who set the trap to lure Zhuge Yue here and killed him. This man followed Zhuge Yue to Yanbei, so he arrived quickly. I estimate that in a few days, the Zhuge family’s assassination squads will arrive in waves. However, I have dispatched a large number of guards to protect you, so you need not worry.”
Chu Qiao stared at Yan Xun, feeling as though she didn’t even know who this person before her was. She struggled to think, widening her eyes to see him clearly, but her head throbbed with a maddening pain. The sunlight shone upon him, dazzlingly golden, and she couldn’t keep her eyes open.
The guards dragged away Zhu Cheng’s corpse, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. His venomous eyes remained wide open, glaring at her fiercely as if he wanted to devour her whole.
Yan Xun soon left with his men, and the courtyard fell silent. Servants brought large buckets of water, splashing them onto the ground and repeatedly washing away the bloodstains. Chu Qiao stood motionless, and no one dared to disturb her. Jing Zisu cautiously approached, trembling as she tugged at the hem of Chu Qiao’s clothes and called softly, “Yue’er? Yue’er?”
The wind blew against her, chilling her entire body to the bone. Zisu gently shook her arm, her voice gradually tinged with sobs.
Suddenly, angry shouts from a young man erupted outside the gate. A Jing berated the guards blocking his way and stormed in. Seeing Chu Qiao’s state, his nose instantly stung with emotion. Ignoring the servants around, he hoisted Chu Qiao onto his shoulder and carried her into the house. Despite the cold outside, Chu Qiao wore only a thin white robe. Maids rushed over in a panic, rubbing her hands and face to warm her up. She remained dazed and unresisting, as if already dead.
“Miss, don’t be like this.”
A Jing said to her with red-rimmed eyes, “It’s not His Majesty’s fault. It’s all that treacherous villain Cheng Yuan who deceived the emperor with his slander. Miss, you must stay strong.”
A Jing’s voice sounded so distant, as if it came from the far ends of the sky. Chu Qiao turned her head slightly, looking at him in confusion. After a long while, she finally asked in a low, hoarse voice, “Where is He Xiao?”
Chu Qiao’s voice sounded so raspy, like a broken bellows. A Jing was momentarily stunned, as if he hadn’t understood her words, and asked foolishly, “Huh? What?”
“Where is He Xiao? And the soldiers of the Xiuli Army? How are they? Are they alright?”"It's alright, it's alright," A Jing quickly replied. "They're all fine, they're at the Guard Station now. They wanted to see you, but you're still recovering, and His Majesty won't allow outsiders to disturb you."
"Oh." Chu Qiao nodded silently, her expression very calm. She asked again, "Did all of Zhuge Yue's men die?"
"All of them. Their bodies have been recovered—most of them, at least. Some were too deep to retrieve, but they likely didn't survive either."
"What about Zhuge Yue? Was his body found?"
A Jing licked his lips slightly, seeing Chu Qiao's calm expression, and said gravely, "He's been recovered. General Yue escorted him back to Daxia, and Zhao Che came personally to receive him. Since the body was intact, we exchanged it for a million gold in ransom from the Zhuge family."
Chu Qiao still wore a wooden expression, her eyes fixed and vacant as she kept nodding. A Jing said nervously, "Miss, don't worry, no one damaged his body. It was still in good condition when we sent it back, and His Majesty even prepared a fine coffin..."
"What's the use of a coffin when the person is already dead."
Chu Qiao spoke faintly, then stood up. She hadn't eaten for six or seven days, only having been force-fed some medicine at the beginning. Her steps were unsteady, and she nearly stumbled. Zisu moved to support her, but Chu Qiao pushed her away. Trembling, she made her way to the desk, picked up a brush and paper, as if intending to write.
"I'll grind the ink for you." Zisu hurried over to prepare the inkstone.
The door to the room was still open, and the wind blew in, rustling the papers and books on the desk. Zisu anxiously instructed the maid, "Hurry and close the door!"
When she looked down again, Chu Qiao had already finished writing. She folded the letter and handed it to A Jing, saying calmly, "Please deliver this letter to He Xiao. Tell him to follow the instructions inside and make sure to stop the Zhuge family's assassins from entering Yanbei."
A Jing took it in a daze, only to see Chu Qiao swiftly write another letter and hand it to him, saying, "Give this to Mr. Wu. Tell him that an individual's strength is limited, but there are many ways to achieve one's beliefs. I have already sown seeds in Shangshen, and now I entrust that place to him."
Then, Chu Qiao picked up her brush and wrote yet another letter.
"Give this to Huanhuan. Tell her that everything is in her hands now."
A sense of foreboding stirred in A Jing's heart. The straightforward man asked foolishly, "Miss, you're not thinking of taking your own life, are you?"
Chu Qiao raised her eyes to look at him. Her gaze was still as clear and bright as ever, but A Jing felt that something was different.
Yes, it was different. In the past, even when she was calm and composed, you could genuinely feel her emotions, her joys and sorrows when she looked at you. But now, even when she looked at you, you couldn't sense her focus. Her eyes seemed to see through you, past your body, past the room, past the courtyard walls, past the drifting clouds and distant moon on the horizon...
"No."
Chu Qiao said faintly, then turned to Zisu and said, "I'm hungry. Bring me something to eat."
Jing Zisu was stunned for a moment, then after a short while, she happily agreed and hurried out.The meal had been kept warm and ready all along. Zisu swiftly set a large table with the servants and stood beside Chu Qiao, speaking excitedly, "This was sent by His Majesty. It's best for you to eat this now that you've just recovered from a serious illness. This is the medicinal diet prescribed by Doctor Yu to nourish your spleen and stomach. Since you haven't eaten for days, you shouldn't have anything too greasy. And this is chicken soup I personally simmered over a low fire for eleven hours. Try it quickly..."
Gradually, Zisu's voice trailed off. She looked at Chu Qiao, flustered and helpless, as she held her bowl, mechanically shoveling rice into her mouth, chewing and swallowing large mouthfuls. She finished one bowl quickly, then got up to serve herself another and continued eating.
Her eating manner was frightening, like a starving beggar desperately stuffing food into her mouth. Jing Zisu was terrified and tremblingly reached out to stop her, but Chu Qiao kept her head down, paying no attention. Zisu bit her lip, tears slowly falling, and tightly grabbed Chu Qiao's arm, crying sorrowfully, "Yue'er, if you're hurting, just cry out loud! Don't hold it in like this—it'll make you sick. If you're in pain, just cry!"
Chu Qiao remained silent, still eating. She chewed mechanically, as if trying to grind down the pain and oppression in her heart along with the food.
The room was quiet, save for Zisu's sobs. A Jing held three letters, feeling his fingers turn icy cold. He wanted to say something but immediately met Chu Qiao's piercingly cold gaze. The woman lifted her head indifferently and said calmly, "You may leave."
By the time A Jing left, Chu Qiao was already taking her medicine. Doctors filed in one after another, carrying large medical kits. The courtyard seemed to regain some vitality, but for some reason, A Jing felt even colder.
Just outside the door, he saw Yan Xun standing under a poplar tree. Though Yunbi was a beautifully named place, it was a poor, remote backwater with harsh mountains and treacherous waters. Every year, heavy snow disasters struck, and the locals never had enough to eat, leading to constant famine-induced migrations. Over time, only elderly folks and these poplar trees remained.
Seeing him come out, Yan Xun didn't turn around but handed over the letters in his hand. Yan Xun opened them one by one, reading carefully. Though the three letters were short, he spent nearly half an hour on them. Finally, he resealed them and handed them back to A Jing, saying, "Do as she said."
A Jing's face flushed red, as if caught stealing. After a long silence, he finally said gravely, "Your Majesty, do you think the young lady might... take her own life? It sounded like she was giving her last wishes."
Yan Xun's expression didn't change, giving A Jing the same answer he'd given Chu Qiao: "She won't."
"Then..." A Jing asked again, "Why make her bear the charge of murdering Zhuge Yue? Not only will the Zhuge family's assassins seek crazy revenge, but she will also hate you."
"Hate me?Yan Xun's tone rose slightly, then he chuckled lowly and said calmly, "That's better than being dead.""
A Jing was slightly stunned. Vaguely, he seemed to understand something, yet not fully. He asked further, "Your Majesty, won't there be consequences if we use a random corpse to deceive Daxia and the Zhuge family? We've accepted their ransom."Yan Xun did not answer him, but instead extended his hand, pointing toward the vast snowy plains ahead, and said slowly, "A Jing, do you know why Yunbi is not marked on the Yanbei map?"
A Jing did not understand why he suddenly brought this up. He shook his head and said, "I don’t know."
"Because this place is useless," Yan Xun’s tone was low and indifferent. "It’s too small, filled with jagged rocks, unsuitable for farming or pasture, barren with no grass. The Chishui River doesn’t flow through here, and Qianzhang Lake is far away. The climate is harsh, with snow disasters every winter. Its remote location means even the Quanrong People don’t come here to plunder when they invade. Whether militarily or economically, it’s a burden to Yanbei, utterly useless. That’s why it’s not even marked on the map."
He let out a cold laugh, his voice low and heavy, then slowly turned his head. "To the Zhuge family, Zhuge Yue is now what Yunbi is to Yanbei—his existence is nothing but shame and a burden. For an imperial general who acted recklessly and impulsively, and who didn’t die on the battlefield but in his obsession with a woman, what kind of end do you think awaits him? The Zhuge family will be eager to disassociate themselves from him—who would bother to collect his body?"
A Jing suddenly understood and said, "Oh, no wonder His Majesty used the girl as a decoy. His real target is the Zhuge family."
Yan Xun stared expressionlessly into the distance and said slowly, "Zhuge Yue’s death is only the beginning. The Zhuge Clan, Zhao Che, General Le Xing, and even Meng Tian, who recommended him in the first place, will all be implicated in this. Isn’t Daxia already in chaos? Zhao Qi is dead, Zhao Song is hopelessly incompetent, and the influence of the Wei Clan and Zhao Yang is too weak. I might as well give them a push. Only when Daxia is unstable internally can my throne remain secure."
A Jing stood there dumbfounded, unable to speak. The wind blew against his face, making him look utterly stunned.
"A Jing, stop competing with Cheng Yuan," Yan Xun said, frowning slightly as he looked at him. "You’re no longer an assassin from a civilian organization. With Yanbei’s eastern campaign imminent, you are my confidant. To play politics, you need the methods and attitude of a politician. Many people must be sacrificed. If you can’t accept this, you’ll forever be like those impractical dreamers in the Great Alliance Society—living in a fool’s paradise, never tasting the flavor of power."
Yan Xun turned away, not bothering to look at A Jing’s stunned expression. There was one thing he didn’t say aloud: though lions are fierce and useful, they are hard to control. Sometimes, what he really needed was just a pack of dogs.
As for A Chu, she would come to understand eventually. Killing Zhuge Yue was imperative, and using her name to set this trap was a necessary move. Firstly, Zhuge Yue was a difficult man to deal with—extraordinary means were the only way to control him. Secondly, he genuinely needed the ripple effects of this incident. When Daxia crumbled because of it, she would naturally realize that he had been right all along.
As for her feelings toward Zhuge Yue, Yan Xun scoffed at the idea. He hadn’t feared him when he was alive—why would he fear a dead man now? She was just throwing a tantrum, as usual, grieving for a couple of days. Time would wash everything away, and he had plenty of time.A Jing remained silent for a moment, then suddenly asked, "Your Majesty, the lady is deeply saddened. Won't you go in and see her?"
"No time. I must go to the pass tonight. Zhao Che has been here long enough—it's time he returned home."
After Yan Xun finished speaking, he departed. A Jing stood in place, watching as Yan Xun mounted his horse and rode further away under the escort of the imperial guards. In a daze, he suddenly recalled a sentence Yan Xun had once said to him long ago in the Holy Gold Palace.
Back then, he had advised Yan Xun to prioritize the greater picture. Yan Xun had turned his head and retorted, "If not for A Chu, what use do I have for Yanbei?"
He remembered those words clearly, as if they still echoed in his ears even today. But now, had His Majesty forgotten them? Perhaps he hadn't—Yanbei had never been his true concern. His ambitions were too vast, his wisdom too profound. His gaze was fixed upon the entire world.
A Jing lowered his head, no longer able to discern right from wrong. Perhaps from the day he chose to follow him, this day had been inevitable.
He turned and walked toward the guard station. His once upright back seemed slightly bent for some reason, as if something weighed upon him, preventing him from walking tall and straight again.
Chu Qiao rested for five full days before her spirits finally recovered completely. Jing Zisu kept her company all day, chatting about their childhood and the parents and relatives Chu Qiao had never met. Jing Zisu had married—her husband was a military officer. Just yesterday, she had received a letter from him, and the joy on her face suggested she was quite content.
These past few days, Chu Qiao had been behaving normally—eating well, taking her medicine, and when she wasn't sleeping, she would do stretching exercises in the courtyard. After her serious illness, her cheeks had grown gaunt, but as she gradually recovered, her complexion remained pale. Jing Zisu found it strange and secretly checked on her at night, only to discover that although Chu Qiao lay in bed, her eyes remained open. She often stayed awake until dawn, sleepless through the night.
Today was the New Year. The battle at the pass had ended three days prior. The Holy Gold Palace urgently issued eight golden summonses recalling Zhao Che to the capital. With no other choice, Zhao Che withdrew his troops. Seizing the opportunity, Yan Xun attacked Wild Goose Cry Pass. Though he failed to capture it, Daxia suffered over fifty thousand casualties—a fitting New Year's gift for Yanbei.
Yan Xun returned a day early. Suddenly designated as the location for the Yanbei Emperor's New Year celebrations, the local officials in Yunbi were as excited as if injected with adrenaline. Lanterns and decorations were hung everywhere, filling the place with festive cheer.
In the morning, Jing Zisu brought new clothes—bright red, embroidered with a hundred lilies, symbolizing auspiciousness and joy. But Chu Qiao found the sight uncomfortable; the color reminded her of blood, slowly spreading, and she was unwilling to even touch it with her fingertips.
Everything had already been arranged. The message should have been sent. Shangshen had been entrusted to Mr. Wu. As for the Xiuli Army, staying with her held no future. Mr. Wu and Miss Yu, being core members of the Great Alliance Society, were distrusted by Yan Xun and unsuitable to command troops. They could only be entrusted to Huanhuan, who also possessed Yan bloodline and was a woman. As the Princess of Yanbei and commander of the Huoyun Army, she could offer the Xiuli Army a promising future.
There was no need to stay in this place any longer.
By the time Yan Xun entered, the room was already empty. Everything was as usual—neat and tidy.
In a daze, he recalled the night when he and Zhao Chun'er were betrothed, and his heart suddenly turned cold. He had considered this possibility, yet he still clung to a sliver of hope—perhaps she had come to understand? Maybe she no longer blamed him? After all, they had been together for nearly ten years. She had always been so tolerant of him, forgiving him no matter what he did. He had abandoned the Southwest Garrison Commander, given up Yanbei, killed her subordinates, doubted and ostracized her—yet she had never left him, had she? It was only Zhuge Yue, just Zhuge Yue. Even if A Chu felt gratitude toward him, how could it compare to the decade of companionship they had shared?
Perhaps they just needed to talk. If he openly expressed all his thoughts, she should be able to understand him. Even if she was angry, her anger would eventually fade. At worst, he could let her resume command of the troops. Now that the overall situation was settled, there was nothing left to worry about.
He didn't know why he was so certain. Over the past few days, he had repeatedly comforted himself hundreds of times in his heart. But at this moment, as he looked at the tidy, clean room, he suddenly panicked. He hurriedly rushed outside, and as he moved, his sleeve brushed a small object off the desk. A crisp snap reached his ears. Yan Xun lowered his head and saw, under the dim lamplight, a pure white jade ring lying shattered into many pieces on the floor, reflecting the candlelight faintly, slightly dazzling.
Yan Xun stood frozen, staring at the ring, and suddenly remembered A Chu's words from that day: "If Zhuge Yue dies in Yanbei, I will never forgive you."
I will never forgive you...
Never...
"Yue'er?"
Jing Zisu pushed the door open and ran in cheerfully, calling out, "Come with me to see the lanterns!"
Startled to see Yan Xun standing motionless in place, Zisu hurriedly knelt and kowtowed. After a long moment without hearing any response from him, she cautiously raised her head and saw the man standing rigidly, his face filled with a deep, unshakeable desolation, like a thick, lingering fog.
Chu Qiao walked along the street, leading a horse and wearing a simple blue cloak. All around her, joyous crowds bustled. Colorful lanterns blazed brightly, and people were dressed in vibrant clothes. Children ran back and forth, carrying lanterns.
The lanterns were exquisitely crafted—some shaped like dragons, phoenixes, tigers, or carp; others depicted white plum blossoms, towering trees, the God of Longevity from the East Sea, puppies, chicks, clever cats, and adorable rabbits...
Fireworks lit up the sky, and the entire street was filled with the rich aroma of wine. Decorations and lanterns adorned every corner, while street vendors called out their wares. Rows of lantern riddles lined both sides of the street. In the distant ice rink, people danced in festive celebrations, steering dry-boat lanterns to the lively tunes of suonas.
So many people passed by Chu Qiao, yet no one paused to glance at her. They walked hand in hand—husbands holding their wives, wives carrying their children, children turning back to call for their grandmothers, and grandmothers supporting their elderly husbands. Everyone had a home and family. On this festive day, they stepped out of their humble homes and into the bustling streets, laughing and smiling as they celebrated this rare occasion."A Chu, I've never said this to you before, and I'll only say it once, so listen carefully. I want to thank you—thank you for accompanying me through hell all these years, thank you for not abandoning me during the darkest days of my life, thank you for always standing by my side. Without you, Yan Xun would be nothing. He would have died long ago on that snowy night eight years ago. A Chu, I won't say these words again in the future. I will spend my whole life making it up to you. Some things need not be spoken between us; we should understand each other. A Chu belongs to Yan Xun, to me alone. I will protect you and take you away. The moment I held your hand eight years ago, I never intended to let go."
"Yan Xun, I never had a hometown. It was because of you that I considered your hometown my own."
"A Chu, trust me."
Trust me, I will protect you, take care of you, never let you be harmed, never let you suffer the slightest grievance. Trust me, I will make you happy, trust me...
Tears streamed silently from Chu Qiao's eyes, falling without a sound, tracing paths across her sharp cheekbones and slender chin. The cold wind blew like a thin blade, sharp and painful. She led her horse, walking slowly.
Memories of the past scattered chaotically before her eyes. That tall, imposing figure finally shattered into countless pieces, drifting lightly like goose feathers.
Suddenly, the midnight bell tolled, and a group of children rushed past, bumping into her. A little girl fell to the ground, crushing the colored lantern in her hand—a poorly crafted white fish with red eyes that looked more like a rabbit, its belly painted with a golden ingot. The child clutched the broken lantern and began to cry, her sobs growing louder. Chu Qiao halted in a daze, then crouched down, wiping the girl's tears with her hand. She pulled a silver ingot from her robe and tried to press it into the child's palm.
Just then, deafening firecrackers erupted—the hour of New Year's Eve had passed, and every household was setting them off. The child froze, forgetting her tears in astonishment, covering her ears and shouting excitedly.
But Chu Qiao seemed struck by an invisible giant, her face instantly drained of color.
"If you dare die, I'll chase you all the way to the underworld! Remember that?"
The man turned, his sword-like eyebrows furrowed, scolding her harshly.
She retorted defiantly, "If you die, I'll set off a hundred strings of firecrackers to celebrate never having to remember owing you a favor."
The firecrackers grew louder, crackling in rapid succession. Suddenly, Chu Qiao's tears burst forth like a flood. The memories she had suppressed surged out like a torrent, and heart-wrenching pain overwhelmed her, shattering her composure and self-control to dust.
"Wh-what's wrong with you?"
The child was terrified, shouting over the firecrackers, "Stop crying! You don't have to pay me back, okay?"
As the firecrackers roared, Chu Qiao could no longer hold back. She knelt on the lively, festive street, covered her face, and wept bitterly.
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