In the early spring of the 773rd year of the Baicang Calendar, the Hongchuan Plateau was still in the depths of winter. A heavy snowfall blanketed the land in vast whiteness, blocking the imperial highway from the Xia-Tang border to Zhenhuang and halting all merchant traffic. Prices in the capital soared as many merchants hoarded goods, exploiting the situation to drive up the costs of daily necessities like oil, rice, tea, and salt. Panic buying of grain erupted among the residents, plunging the imperial capital into chaos. On the sixth day of the third month, the Holy Gold Palace summoned Muhe Xiyun, a direct descendant of the Muhe Clan, and harshly reprimanded him before stripping him of his position as the Capital Prefect. The role was then handed over to the Third Prince, Zhao Qi. This marked the first time in the empire's three-hundred-year history that a descendant of the Zhao Clan had taken charge of the Capital Prefecture Office. From then on, the responsibility of guarding the three armies of Zhenhuang, the imperial capital, fell entirely into the hands of the royal family.
Upon assuming his position, Zhao Qi immediately took control of the Green Camp troops and began a comprehensive reorganization and reshuffling. Zhao Qi's birth mother, Consort Shu, was the biological younger sister of Wei Guang, the head of the Wei Clan. As a result, all of Zhao Qi's policies and decrees received enthusiastic support from the Wei Clan's generals. In less than three days, the capital's defenses were completely revitalized. On the tenth day of the third month, Zhao Qi led the Green Camp troops out of Zhenhuang City to personally oversee the repair of the capital's imperial highway. This act was widely praised by the citizens of the capital as a commendable deed.
Meanwhile, out in the snowy wilderness beyond the city, a lone rider suddenly emerged, galloping fiercely against the wind and snow. Ahead lay an endless expanse of desolation, devoid of any signs of human life, with the sky and earth merging into a pale, indistinguishable blur.
Just beyond a slope, on another vast stretch of snow-covered ground, Wu Daoya stood with his eyes half-squinted. He wore a blue windproof hood, his long eyebrows dusted with frost, and his face was pale from the cold. Yet his eyes burned with intensity as he stared ahead, his expression calm and unreadable.
"Sir," a young boy in a gray coat hurried down from a carriage behind him, holding out a heavy fur cloak. "Sir, let's not wait any longer. They won't come. The snowstorm is too fierce. Old Man Liu says a major blizzard is coming, and we should hurry to reach Queyu Mountain before nightfall."
Wu Daoya remained unmoved, as if he hadn't heard a word. His eyes stayed fixed ahead, his face devoid of expression.
"Sir?" The boy tugged at the hem of Wu Daoya's robe. "Sir?"
"Minger, listen," the man in the blue robe suddenly spoke, his voice slightly hoarse and low, barely audible over the howling north wind, like autumn leaves rustling softly.
"Listen?" The boy frowned, straining his ears. "Sir, what am I listening for?"
"The sound of hoofbeats," Wu Daoya replied. "They're here."
"Hoofbeats?" Minger listened intently for a while but could hear nothing except the roaring wind. In such weather, it was difficult even to hear someone speaking nearby, let alone distant hoofbeats. Muttering under his breath, the boy said, "Sir, there are no hoofbeats. You must have misheard. In my opinion, we should—"
But before Minger could finish his sentence, a series of rapid and clear hoofbeats suddenly rang out. Startled, the boy jerked his head up. Through the white wilderness, a yellow dapple horse slowly appeared at the edge of the horizon. The figure on the horse was indistinct, and the snow fell even heavier, swirling down from the sky and blurring their vision. Yet, they could still clearly see that the rider's silhouette was slender, as if a gust of wind could sweep them away.
"Sir," Minger gasped in awe, "you're incredible!""Whoa!" A crisp, low cry rang out as the rider swiftly dismounted and hurried forward. Clad in a heavy blue-faced wind cloak, the enormous hood completely concealed her head and face, only allowing a glimpse of faint, dark hair beneath its edge.
"Just in time," the woman said, removing her hood to reveal a thin, delicate face with slightly blue-tinged lips. She quickly pulled a stack of rice paper from her robe and handed it to Wu Daoya. The long journey galloping through the bitter wind had left her breathless and weak. "Keep it safe—everything's here."
Wu Daoya frowned deeply, his expression displeased as he looked at her. "Why didn't you send someone else? It's the dead of winter—is your illness cured?"
The woman shook her head. "No one else could come. Mu Hexifeng is dead, and that fool Mu Hexiyun has been demoted. This third prince is not easy to deal with. The society has lost several brothers in a row. As a woman, I'm less scrutinized."
"Zhao Qi has been biding his time all these years, and now he's making such a big move right from the start. Zhao Zhengde truly raised a bunch of capable sons."
"Enough of that, you should go now. This mission is urgent—there's less than a month to go back and forth. The Crown Prince's reputation is rising rapidly, which has its pros and cons. If we don't stabilize the overall situation now, things could easily go awry."
Wu Daoya nodded. "I know. You must be careful."
"Mm," the woman replied, her face pale as snow, her eyes seeming even more sunken. "You too."
Wu Daoya's gaze turned gloomy as he looked at her pallid cheeks and frail frame. He sighed helplessly, turned to take the heavy fur coat from Ming'er, and draped it over her shoulders. Bowing his head, he carefully tied the cords with his slender fingers, his eyes gentle. As he fastened it, he murmured softly, "The weather is getting colder. You must take extra care of yourself. This month may not seem long, but it's not short either. The capital is turbulent—you need to be cautious and avoid rash actions. Of all our fellow disciples, only you and I remain, A Yu. I don't want anything to happen to you."
Miss Yu lowered her head in silence. Something in her heart began to sprout like a budding flower, growing intricately. Too many thoughts crowded her mind, leaving her at a loss for words.
"As for the society's affairs, you must weigh your actions carefully. Although last time we rescued Master Zhu without casualties, we exposed two of our secret contact points. The higher-ups are bound to be resentful—endure it if you can, and don't act on impulse."
"Let the noble families in the imperial city fight among themselves. Don't get involved. Our plan this time is solely to safely rescue the Crown Prince. Ignore everything else, and avoid being greedy for merit or acting recklessly."
"And," Wu Daoya slowly raised his head, his eyes as calm as a frozen lake in early winter, revealing no ripples or waves. Even his voice was measured: "Your health is poor—take care to nurture it and don't overexert yourself. Once this matter is settled, I'll take you to Biantang for a while. The scenery there is beautiful, and the climate is mild—it will be best for your illness."After tying the final knot, Wu Daoya stepped back two paces, glanced at the woman twice, then turned away. As he walked off, he waved his hand lightly and said, "Go back now, be careful on the road."
"Dao Ya," Miss Yu suddenly looked up, her expression turning serious.
"Hmm?" Wu Daoya turned back, raising an eyebrow as he asked softly, "Is there something else?"
Miss Yu pressed her lips together, thought for a long moment, then shook her head and said, "It's nothing. If there's anything, we can talk about it when you return. Take care of yourself."
Wu Daoya gazed at the woman. She wasn't exceptionally beautiful—her face was thin, her frame delicate. Though only in her late twenties, years of exhaustion and hardship had prematurely etched fine crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, and her skin held an unhealthy pallor. Yet it was this very face that held so many attachments he couldn't bring himself to abandon.
Just like today—these weren't particularly important documents, but he was certain she would personally deliver them, to see him one last time. Even though he still scolded her for not taking better care of herself.
Even now, he seemed to vividly recall their first meeting. That day, he had been traveling with his master to the imperial capital of Zhenhuang when, on the Little Smoke Bridge of West Temple Street, they encountered a girl who had been beaten bloody by her master after attempting to escape. That year, she was only nine years old—thin and small, her skin sallow from prolonged malnutrition, her entire being devoid of vitality. Yet her eyes—so large, so dark, so bright—were filled with unyielding resentment and an unwavering determination to never give up.
In that moment, he knew this child would surely succeed. No matter how many times she failed, as long as she had breath in her, she would eventually break free.
Sure enough, half a month later, at the entrance of a tavern outside Runan City, they encountered this child again—starving and on the verge of collapse, yet still refusing to beg. His master took her in and brought her back with them. From then on, Mount Tianji gained a little sister, and he gained a bond he could never sever.
Seven days ago, Xihua died on the Zuoling Plains of Yanbei. Of the thirteen fellow disciples who had originally descended from Mount Tianji together, only the two of them remained.
Wu Daoya reached out and patted Miss Yu's shoulder, his touch firm. He wanted to say something but ultimately held back. "If there's anything... we'll talk when I return. I must go now. Take care of yourself."
"Mm," Miss Yu nodded. "You too."
Wu Daoya boarded the carriage. Liu Huzi, clad in a dog-fur coat, rubbed his hands together and shouted as he cracked the whip. The warhorses neighed and broke into a gallop, their hooves clattering. The carriage kicked up a trail of white snow mist, gradually disappearing into the swirling blizzard.
Whatever needed to be said could wait until he returned.
Miss Yu sighed softly. The cold snowflakes brushed against her face, reminding her of the Fire Thunder Plains in Yanbei.
Everything was about to end. In just a few more months, if they successfully rescued the young master, she could retire with her mission accomplished. Then, she could go to Biantang—a place far warmer than Hongchuan, where snow fell for more than half the year. There, she could finally experience the scenes she had read about in books: boating on emerald lakes, breathing in the fragrance of lotus blossoms on summer nights.
A Yu lifted her head and took a deep breath. But first, they had to safely rescue the Crown Prince.She straightened her back, gave a light shout, turned her horse around, and rode away.
They had waited for too many years; surely they could continue to wait. Though some words could not yet be spoken aloud, there would come a day when they could. On that day, the world would be united, the people would live in peace, there would be no more slaves, and all conflicts would cease.
A cold wind blew from afar, stirring up small whirlwinds on the plain. The white snow spiraled upward, like the cycles of fate, rising and falling, over and over again.
Meanwhile, in the Holy Gold Palace, the young woman slowly set down the documents on her desk, walked to the window, and gazed blankly at the fiery clouds on the horizon.
Her maid, Lü Liu, cautiously knocked on the door, timidly pulled it open, and said softly, "Miss, someone is here to see you."
Here, aside from Yan Xun, everyone feared her because every servant who entered Yingge Court had undergone her rigorous interrogation. In her previous life, she had been a national intelligence agent, and in this life, she had repeatedly brushed with death, leaving her with strict vigilance and caution toward everything.
The woman raised an eyebrow slightly. "Who is it?"
"The guard didn't say," Lü Liu replied quietly. "It was Commander Song from the front gate who came to deliver the message."
"Song Que?" Chu Qiao wondered. The visitor's identity was unusual—not only could they freely enter the Holy Gold Palace, but they could also dispatch Song Que to summon her. Who could it be?
"Tell Commander Song I'll be right there."
After draping a fox-fur coat over her shoulders and securing a dagger for self-defense, Chu Qiao opened the gate of Yingge Court. Song Que's face, as cold and unchanging as ever, appeared before her. The young woman sighed inwardly; such an officer, so lacking in social graces, no wonder he had been guarding the front gate when she first entered the palace and was still stationed there now, with no advancement at all.
After winding through numerous twists and turns, they arrived at the Jade Plum Pavilion in the rear palace garden, a place Zhao Song had always favored. In her childhood, she had often secretly come here to receive Zhao Song's aid, but it had been a long time since her last visit.
The grove remained much the same, though the plum trees had grown somewhat thicker. It was now the peak season for plum blossoms, and the entire garden was filled with a subtle, drifting fragrance. Commander Song retreated without a word, and Chu Qiao walked in alone. After just a few steps, she caught sight of the visitor's figure.
"Miss Xing'er."
After years apart, Zhu Cheng had grown somewhat plump, his belly round, yet he still wore a smiling face, showing no sign of displeasure over Chu Qiao's defection from the Zhuge family.
Chu Qiao's expression remained unchanged, her voice calm as she said, "Steward Zhu, my surname is Chu."
Zhu Cheng quickly smiled apologetically. "Miss Chu, I've come on the orders of the young master."
"Young master?" The young woman snorted coldly, her tone respectful yet icy. "Which young master?"
Zhu Cheng was momentarily taken aback but replied, "The fourth young master, Zhuge Yue."
"What does he want with me?"
"This... the young master instructed me to deliver this to you.A long blue cloth wrapped around a slender sword. Just by looking at the hilt, Chu Qiao knew that it was the sword she used to kill the subordinates of Zalu on the night of the hunt.
"The young master said, your sword is now returned to you, and he asks that you also return his sword.""I don't have it with me," Chu Qiao raised an eyebrow, her voice low. "You should have told me what this was about beforehand, so I could have brought the sword."
"Ah?" Zhu Cheng was stunned. "But I told Commander Song!"Chu Qiao’s mind went blank. Telling him that was no different from saying nothing at all. She reached out to take the sword and said, “I’ll take the sword back first. Later, I’ll send someone to deliver your young master’s sword to your residence.”
“Miss Chu,” Zhu Cheng’s face showed a troubled expression, “the young master said that neither of you wishes to have any further entanglement with the other. Matters should be resolved promptly, without delay. How about this—I’ll wait here for you. Please go back and have someone else bring it to me.”
Neither wishes to have any further entanglement with the other?
Chu Qiao’s eyebrows lifted slightly. She reached out and retrieved the sword, saying in a low voice, “Fine.”
With that, she turned and left.
Weapons were not permitted inside the Holy Gold Palace. Though no one inspected her, Chu Qiao still concealed the sword inside her heavy fur coat, bowing her head as she hurried toward Yingge Court.
In two more days, she would assume her post at the Elite Cavalry Camp. Emperor Xia’s appointment had left the court officials puzzled for a long time.
Was the emperor beginning to favor people from Yanbei? What did this signify? Did it mean the emperor intended to let bygones be bygones, allowing Yan Xun to return to Yanbei peacefully to inherit his position, thereby reassuring the feudal lords across the land?
Clearly, that was impossible. Over the years, the Holy Gold Palace had repeatedly subjected Yan Xun to attacks, exclusion, and internal strife, yet Emperor Xia had always turned a blind eye. Though he never personally intervened, his indifference as an emperor encouraged others with ulterior motives to eliminate Yan Xun root and branch. If not for Yan Xun and Chu Qiao’s constant vigilance, they would have long since fallen victim to countless covert schemes and hidden arrows.
Emperor Xia had once executed Yan Xun’s parents and siblings right before his eyes, plunging this noble scion from a prestigious dynasty into the depths of hell in a single night. How could he possibly release the tiger back into the mountains by allowing Yan Xun to return to Yanbei? It wasn’t that he hadn’t taken action—it was just that those who had tried had failed. Now, with Yan Xun’s return imminent, how could the emperor risk losing everything by handing Yanbei over to this resentful young wolf?
So, what was Emperor Xia’s true intention with this appointment? Almost everyone in Zhenhuang City knew that the slave girl Chu Qiao was Yan Xun’s strongest support. This girl, not yet fifteen, had repeatedly protected Young Master Yan from life-and-death crises over the past seven years, displaying remarkable agility and exceptional martial skills. Could it be that Emperor Xia genuinely admired this outstanding young woman and sought to recruit and cultivate her? Or was he aiming to cut off Yan Xun’s wings, lest they obstruct his plans in the future?
No one knew the reason. All speculation remained superficial. Chu Qiao knew the situation couldn’t be so simple—she just hadn’t yet grasped the crux of the matter.
After rounding Changxuan Street, she reached Xuannen Road. On either side stood towering red walls, their bright yellow tiles blanketed in pristine white snow.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed. Chu Qiao frowned. Had she misremembered? Was there a court assembly today?
There was no time to ponder further. Only officials of the third rank or higher were permitted to enter the inner halls of the Holy Gold Palace for deliberations. Given her status, she was required to kneel and avoid them.
The young woman walked to a corner by the wall, knelt down, and remained silent, her head bowed. The voluminous fox fur coat concealed her brows and eyes, revealing only a pale, smooth stretch of her neck.
The footsteps drew nearer but did not pass by. Instead, they halted beside her. A deep voice sounded above her head: “Look up.”
Chu Qiao frowned and slowly straightened her posture.Foes are bound to cross paths; today is truly an unlucky year.
OpenNovel