The horse galloped at breakneck speed, the cold wind whistling past her ears. The clamorous noises gradually faded until only the sound of hooves striking the ground remained. Though small, the red pony was of excellent breed, running like lightning with an unstoppable momentum. Chu Qiao’s small hands gripped the horse’s mane tightly as she leaned low against its back, calmly surveying the surrounding terrain while her mind raced rapidly.
Jing Yue’er’s underdeveloped body couldn’t withstand the pain of falling from such a swiftly galloping horse—she had to find another way to escape.
Just then, urgent hoofbeats sounded from behind, quickly catching up to Chu Qiao until two riders raced side by side.
"Beg me, and I’ll save you!"
The boy’s voice, torn apart by the cold wind, still reached Chu Qiao’s ears in fragments. The child turned her fair, jade-like face and glared fiercely at the gloating boy, her eyes resolute and without a trace of panic.
"Then tell me what that hand gesture meant, and I’ll save you!"
The night wind was bleak, the cold moon sharp as a blade. The pony slowed gradually as it ran through snow deep enough to reach an adult’s knees, but showed no sign of stopping. Seizing the fleeting opportunity, Chu Qiao suddenly released her grip, pushed off the horse’s back with her palms, and leaped toward the boy beside her.
With a soft thud, the child’s body collided with the boy’s. He cried out in surprise and hastily reined in his horse, but it was too late. The two tumbled off the black horse like rolling gourds, landing in the soft snow and rolling several times. Oblivious, the black horse continued chasing the red pony, swiftly disappearing into the night.
"Swiftwind!" the boy shouted anxiously, his brows furrowed. Without bothering to brush off the snow, he stumbled forward a few steps, but it was futile.
"That horse of yours deserves to be taken back and executed. Not only did it fail to notice being tampered with, but it didn’t even realize its rider fell off. What’s the use of keeping it?" Chu Qiao stood up, dusted the snow off her clothes, and checked herself over—unharmed. Good.
Yan Xun turned around, glaring fiercely at Chu Qiao, and said angrily, "Swiftwind is a fine steed my father just captured from the Yanbei region. It’s only been with me for half a month—what’s strange about us not being familiar with each other? Meanwhile, you boldly let my horse escape—what punishment do you deserve?"
Chu Qiao snorted lightly and said disdainfully, "It’s not like I asked you to follow me. If you can’t control your own horse, what does that have to do with me?"
"How dare you speak to me like that?"
Chu Qiao frowned, casting a contemptuous glance at this young but overly pompous Heir of Yanbei, then coldly snorted and turned to walk toward Zhenhuang City.
Yan Xun was taken aback, not expecting her to leave just like that. He hurriedly chased after her a few steps and asked, "Where are you going?"
Chu Qiao raised an eyebrow. "Back, of course. Did you think I’d spend the night here?"The snow was deep, reaching past Chu Qiao’s knees in shallow areas and nearly up to the child’s thighs in deeper spots. Yan Xun walked beside Chu Qiao, and seeing her struggle with each step, his earlier frustration over losing the horse instantly dissipated. He grinned cheerfully as he kept pace. But after only a few steps, his joy turned to misfortune—his foot suddenly sank, and before he could even cry out, his entire body plummeted downward.
Just as she heard the cracking sound, Chu Qiao sensed something was wrong. In that same instant, the child instinctively reached out and grabbed Yan Xun’s arm. But how could Jing Yue’er’s small frame bear Yan Xun’s weight? With a loud crash, both of them tumbled into a large snow pit.
“Ugh… Hey, are you okay?” Yan Xun emerged from the snow, frantically digging through the pile. Spotting a pale little hand, he pulled Chu Qiao out like a radish, shaking her head and shouting, “You’re not dead, are you?”
“Let go.” The child frowned in annoyance, shifting her foot slightly. It hurt—a sharp pain that made her brow furrow even tighter.
The Heir of Yanbei grew anxious. “Are you hurt?”
“Not dead yet.” Chu Qiao looked up, gauging the height. It wasn’t too far. She turned to Yan Xun and asked, “Can you climb up?”
Yan Xun estimated the distance and shook his head. “The snow here is too soft. On flat ground, I could jump up, but here it’ll just make us sink deeper.”
“We’ll freeze to death if we stay here all night,” Chu Qiao murmured under her breath. She stood up. “Step on my shoulders to climb up, then go find someone to rescue me.”
Yan Xun shook his head. “No, I’ll boost you up first. You go get help.”
Chu Qiao paused, studying him for a moment, then nodded. “Alright.”
After an immense struggle, when Chu Qiao finally saw the full moon in the sky, it felt like she had narrowly escaped death. She lay at the edge of the snow pit, looking down at Yan Xun still trapped inside, and called out, “Wait here, I’ll go get someone.”
Yan Xun waved cheerfully. “Hurry, hurry!”
Her ankle throbbed with pain—likely sprained from the fall. Chu Qiao forced herself to walk a few steps despite the discomfort, when a sudden thought struck her. The child unconsciously halted, her eyes narrowing, a chill running down her spine.
If she were to turn and leave now, given how remote this wilderness was, Yan Xun would surely die tonight. Would that count as revenge? Memories of her first day here flooded back—the hunting grounds drenched in blood, the sharp arrows, the small, lifeless bodies. Chu Qiao’s heart raced faster. Though most of the lethal arrows that day had been fired by the two Zhao brothers, though Young Master Yan’s arrows had mostly struck the vicious wolves, though he had been mocked by the Zhuge family brothers for his “womanly compassion,” and though he trusted her so completely, smiling as he urged her to hurry back…
The child stood in the vast, pale wilderness, her eyes dark as ink, shimmering with turbulent intensity.
With a thud, a dried branch taller than a person was tossed into the snow pit, nearly hitting Yan Xun on the head. Before Chu Qiao even peered over the edge, she heard Yan Xun’s furious roar: “Are you trying to kill me?!”
Chu Qiao rolled her eyes impatiently. “If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble. Now get up here.”Yan Xun climbed up nimbly, looked Chu Qiao up and down, and smiled with a slight curl of his lips: "I thought you'd abandon a villain like me and walk away without looking back."
Chu Qiao gave him a cold glance: "I only blame myself for not being ruthless enough."
Yan Xun laughed heartily, quickly stepped closer to her, and slightly bent over: "Come on, as a reward for not abandoning me, I'll carry you back."
Chu Qiao looked at him suspiciously: "You'd do something so beneath your status?"
"This Crown Prince is in a good mood."
Chu Qiao fell silent. Just when Yan Xun thought she wouldn't agree, he suddenly felt weight on his back - a soft, small body.
The ground was white as frost, with snow reflecting dazzling light. This was Yan Xun's first time carrying someone, his movements somewhat awkward as he fidgeted uncomfortably. Chu Qiao reached out her fair little hand and slapped his neck: "Stay still, I'm about to fall."
Yan Xun froze, then indeed became much steadier, carrying Chu Qiao slowly across the wilderness.
"Hey, do you know how far we've walked?"
The child replied calmly: "Less than the time it takes for one incense stick to burn. It'll take about two hours to walk back."
Yan Xun nodded: "Are you called Xing'er?"
"How did you know?"
"I heard that maid you framed mention it last time on the cliff."
Young Master Yan seemed to be in high spirits tonight. Seeing Chu Qiao remain silent, he continued asking: "What's your real name? What's your surname?"
Chu Qiao snorted lightly: "Why should I tell you?"
"Fine, don't tell me then," Yan Xun snorted. "I don't even want to hear it. One day, you'll be begging me to listen while crying."
"Then wait patiently for that day."
Yan Xun frowned: "You're just a child, why do you speak like an old person?"
The child on his back curled her lips disdainfully: "Then none of you are much older either, why are your methods so ruthless?"
Yan Xun was taken aback, then laughed: "My heavens, you really hold grudges."
The child's voice carried a hint of sorrow, turning cold as she said indifferently: "You don't hold grudges because no one has ever pointed an arrow at you."
The wind howled fiercely. Yan Xun suddenly felt somewhat cold. He opened his mouth to retort but ultimately didn't speak. Those distinctions between high and low status he had believed in for years seemed inappropriate to mention before this child. Some things, when everyone says they're right, you naturally think they're right too, even if sometimes in your heart, you don't truly believe so. The cold moonlight shone on the snowfield, the figures of the two children appearing somewhat frail.
Just then, rapid hoofbeats suddenly sounded in the distance. Yan Xun's spirits lifted: "My people are here."
The child on his back frowned slightly, tilting her ear to listen. The hoofbeats were chaotic, as if a large army was approaching, accompanied by the sound of many people running. Ahead, snow mist surged like silver dragons and white snakes, transforming from a line into a vast expanse, charging forward magnificently.
The child narrowed her eyes slightly, parted her red lips, and said slowly: "It seems they're not your people."
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