PART 4. LAND OF FREEDOM
PART 4. LAND OF FREEDOM
Chapter 31
Back to the Frozen lake
The passing rain stopped, and the sky, revealing some of its soft blue hues, settled the after-rain smell of the fresh forest. Mossy grasses absorbed the water, and dew, like that of early morning, began to appear.
Viper saw He Xiao from a distance and could feel his pain, even though it wasn’t her concern. Looking at He Xiao, who would be hanging from the pine tree tomorrow, she intervened, revealing their presence to him with her Mimi Gongzhu.
Though He Xiao had lost hope during those critical moments, Viper came to renew it today.
She approached Chu Qiao and said, “Mimi Gongzhu, why don’t we change course? Let’s help this man first and see his army of dry bones before their souls go to the underworld.”
Viper also glanced at He Xiao, who wiped his face. Not wanting to share his private moments, he turned away from them and returned to the small firepit Chu Qiao had created earlier.
Chu Qiao, standing still, stared at the vast snow-capped mountains in the distance, not blinking.
A glistening blue-black lake reflected the grayish rainmaker clouds, which surrounded it like an umbrella.
Chu Qiao suddenly turned to Viper and asked, “Is this the direction to the frozen lake where you found me?”
Viper replied, “Yes, but we can take a shortcut.”
Viper was willing to help and offered the shorter path.
Chu Qiao responded, “Maybe even a thousand caves won’t help me recover my memories, but perhaps the frozen lake after the rain will. To be honest, I don’t feel like I was their leader—this army of dry bones. Because if I was, I must have been very foolish to make them suffer and leave them in the state they’re in today. I feel lost and responsible.”
Viper sensed Chu Qiao’s burden as she watched her Mimi Gongzhu stare into the distance. Unable to help the heaviness in her heart, she replied, “If we ride our horses along the shortcut path, we’ll arrive by dusk.”
Chu Qiao nodded and said, “We must help the ailing army of dry bones and find out what happened to them. Maybe I’ll discover the missing pieces that lead back to the frozen lake. Xinger, Yuwen Yue, Prince of Yanbei?”
Viper remained silent, not wanting to complicate things for Mimi Gongzhu. She simply nodded and turned to prepare the horses and palanquin.
She took some weapons from the royal palanquin, wrapped Chu Qiao’s indigo scarf in a brown canvas cloth to conceal it, mounted the black horse, and fastened the two brown horses and saddlebacks firmly in place. She whispered into the black horse’s ear.
The horse suddenly bolted, pulling the royal palanquin toward Chu Jing Palace.
He Xiao watched Viper take the reins. When the horse approached him, it knelt down. Viper grabbed He Xiao by the shoulders and hoisted him onto her back. The horse stood and awaited Viper’s signal.
He Xiao, unable to stay still, received a punch to the stomach from Viper. He groaned in pain.
“Wait! Where are you taking me? Ow… ow…” he grumbled, “This bat-girl will kill me faster than a thousand armies.”
Viper replied, “I’ll feed you to the crocs. So hang on—it’ll be a path full of thorns and glimpses of the underworld.”
He Xiao, his wide eyes filled with fear, reacted violently. “No! I’ll take the crocs, but the underworld? No way!”
Viper, seemingly enjoying He Xiao’s immature attitude, teased, “If you don’t keep still and obey me, you’ll wish hanging from that tree was more comfortable than riding with me.”
Chu Qiao, still contemplating her plans and how she would react when she saw the Xuili Army, remained uncertain.
It would be her first appearance after a year of hibernation.
If there was an army, that meant war. She wasn’t going to be a mere bystander or muse. She was going to reinforce an already dying army—an army that, to her knowledge, had been wrongfully abandoned despite their bravery and service to the Prince of Yanbei.
But who was this Prince of Yanbei? Was he the one Zhong Yu and Viper had argued about? Who was Yan Xun? What was their relationship before the frozen lake?
Questions lingered in her mind, but she had already decided to help the army she once led, protected, and fought for.
While escaping Chang’an, they had made Yan Xun appear as the rightful prince in their eyes.
They believed Yan Xun’s orders were for her to return to them and that he had not abandoned them. Chu Qiao turned away from the breathtaking view as rain clouds began to gather, bringing with them thunder and lightning. She called for her horse and quickly mounted it.
She turned to Viper and He Xiao, who were ready for their short adventure.
Viper began the journey by taking some desert sand from a small pouch and blowing it onto the path. He Xiao tightly gripped her waist and closed his eyes, setting aside his role as General of the Xuili Army and becoming a simple man for this underworld ride.
Moments later, the hourglass sand seemed suspended in time.
The three entered a trance-like state, surrounded by the same mossy forest. Viper demonstrated her power as she slowly gathered the scattered sands, which formed spiraling currents before returning to her pouch. No one spoke; they simply watched, mesmerized by the power of the sand.
The hunting wind began to blow, lifting their hair as it quickened their journey. He Xiao held onto Viper tightly. Chu Qiao, on the other hand, quickly grabbed her indigo scarf, which the wind embraced, swirling it gracefully before settling it around her neck like a beautiful drape.
The horses continued running as the mossy forest grew darker and darker, even at their rapid pace.
The forest grew darker, and the fog thickened. The trees, massive and covered in large, sharp thorns, stood silently like sentinels of the underworld. A human would not survive an accidental encounter with one of these menacing sentinels.
The sky above them was gray—no sunshine, not even moonlight. No living creatures could be seen, only three warm bodies riding through the desolate paths. As they neared the end of the black forest, another glimpse of the underworld appeared before them.
Viper, showing a rare moment of concern, glanced at the man firmly gripping her waist, his eyes closed, his sharply defined face appearing even more handsome, athletic, and refined in her view.
Viper thought to herself: Viper, don’t get lost, or he’ll be lost in the dark.
The sound of slowing hooves echoed as the trio ascended a steep, narrow path, bordered by the mountainside on one side and a valley on the other.
The horse’s hooves sent rocks tumbling down, their echoing crashes creating a chilling sound. Chu Qiao, calm and composed, glanced below and saw a bottomless pit of darkness. But soon they reached the summit of the winding, dangerous path. Before them lay the underworld headquarters.
All was dark, with only a faint glimmer of moonlight breaking through the clouds. Tall, newly built Chinese-style buildings stood amongst dilapidated, decrepit structures, shabby and overgrown. The sight was eerie—unlike anything seen on the surface, this was a realm beneath Chu Jing kingdom, a shortcut to the frozen lake.
Viper let He Xiao take in the view, though for Chu Qiao, it wasn’t her first time.
Viper said, “The danger is gone. You may open your eyes and enjoy the view.”
But how could He Xiao enjoy this unsettling scene? “Enjoy the view?” he repeated, incredulously, as he opened his eyes.
His eyes widened in horror as he took in the dark surroundings. Nothing was beautiful, only the omnipresent darkness. He turned to look at Viper, his curse and salvation.
In a hoarse voice, he said, “Am I dead now? Is this where I pay for my sins? This place… it’s the open mouth of hell, and it’s the worst of my nightmares.”
Chu Qiao laughed and said, “Welcome to the underworld headquarters. That over there is the forgotten river, where the Higanbana flower grows. Its scent steals your memories and guides you from death to the afterlife.”
He Xiao exclaimed, “General, let me pay for my sins on earth! Don’t let me rot here!”
Viper replied calmly, “This place isn’t for you. Only elite underworld spies are permitted access and to stay here.” As the cold wind blew against her face, she flashed a sly smile.
He Xiao said nothing in response. He could feel the goosebumps rising on his skin. The creeping sense of doom was overwhelming. No ordinary person could endure the underworld for long.
Suddenly, Viper scooped a handful of sand from her pouch once more. She recited ancient oracles, and He Xiao shouted, “Oh no, not again!”
A blinding light engulfed them, and they reappeared by the frozen lake. He Xiao, pinching his body and face, grunted, “Did the tour of hell end? Am I back on earth?”
He stomped his feet on the icy lake and saw the blue twilight as the daybreak began to unfold.
Chu Qiao, smiling like a child, approached him and said, “You’ll be alright. I’ll help you erase that nightmare of a trip to the underworld. Then, you can return to your normal life.”
Viper removed his hands from her waist and said, “You only got to hold on because, without me, you wouldn’t have survived another day.”
In her usual bossy tone, she commanded, “Move!”
He Xiao, realizing his savior was waiting, quickly came to his senses. He gently dismounted and knelt by the icy lake, feeling the sharp sting of frostbite but ignoring the pain.
“I owe my life to the bat-girl,” he whispered.
He Xiao then formally introduced himself to Viper, speaking in a deep voice, “Thank you for saving your ‘gorgeous hero.’ I am He Xiao, Deputy General of the Xuili Army, and a native of Hong Chuan city. You have just arrived in the land of my ancestors.”
Chu Qiao smiled at the two of them and said, “Well, let’s both welcome Viper!”
She winked at He Xiao, and he smiled back.
Still not in the mood for pleasantries, Viper said, “Pay me back when you get the Xuili Army out of their dry bones.”
He Xiao replied, “I’ll keep my word. When the time comes, don’t hesitate to ask for it.”
Although it was autumn, the lake remained frozen—cold and unyielding. Small cracks ran along the surface, and the water beneath the clear ice shimmered in the fading light.
In the distance, a majestic black horse stood on the icy surface, a solitary figure nearby. A man, dressed in a casual purple robe with intricate gold hems, wore a solemn expression. His sword-like brows framed his handsome face. Slowly, he walked in his black bearskin boots, offering flowers, incense, and burning paper snows in remembrance.
He had arrived earlier than the previous year to commemorate the incident at the frozen lake. Kneeling on the ice, he fought back tears of regret. But as the heaviness in his heart became too much to bear, a single tear fell onto the ice.
The lake suddenly began to foam.
Chu Qiao, feeling a sharp pain in her back, paled. The entire ice surface started to bubble and steam. Viper and He Xiao rushed to evacuate her as the ice cracked around them.
“Mimi Gongzhu,” Viper asked, “are you cold but burning inside?”
Chu Qiao, unable to speak, only nodded.
He Xiao urged, “We need to get her out of here. Let’s head to Hong Chuan city so she can rest.”
Viper nodded but warned him, “If you trick me, I swear I’ll finish what I started and hang you from that pine tree.”
He Xiao smiled as Chu Qiao began to lose consciousness. Viper caught her before she fell.
Suddenly, they were surrounded by men. He Xiao stepped forward, ready to defend them.
Meanwhile, the brooding prince by the lake heard the ice begin to crack beneath his feet. He calmly observed the changes until one of his men whispered in his ear, “Your Highness, we have company.”
Narrowing his eyes, Yan Xun asked, “Who?”
“It’s He Xiao, Your Highness.”
“He Xiao?” Yan Xun questioned, surprised. He expected the Xuili General to be manning the Meilin border, not here.
Yan Xun mounted his horse, the cracking ice having ceased for the moment. He ordered his escort to leave the area.
A Yanbei lieutenant approached He Xiao, saying, “General, why are you here? Is there urgent news?”
Before He Xiao could answer, a voice rang out from a distance, “Did you come to bring me news or a concubine?”
The man, Yan Xun, rode closer, his sly smile tinged with sadness. He studied He Xiao and, in mock surprise, said, “Why are you dressed so poorly? Did you forget your Yanbei uniform?”
He Xiao remained silent, simply staring at Yan Xun.
Yan Xun approached, observing the two women behind He Xiao. One appeared to be from a barbarian tribe, fitting his description perfectly with a whip clipped to her waist. Her fierce lips suggested danger, but her face looked like that of an angel. The other woman resembled Princess Jasmine from Aladdin, dressed in white with an indigo scarf draped over her face and neck, revealing only her eyes.
Yan Xun squinted, focusing on the woman in the scarf.
At that moment, Viper was holding her, as she had passed out.
He Xiao spoke, “Your Highness, I apologize for the disturbance. Please excuse us.”
He Xiao knelt before Yan Xun and said, “Your Highness is too kind. I am not here to offer a concubine. This is an emergency, and I will explain later, but for now, we must move out.”
He Xiao did not want to reveal Chu Qiao’s identity to Yan Xun just yet. His priority was for Chu Qiao to see the Xuili Army before reporting anything further.
Yan Xun’s look shifted from formal to lighthearted as he responded, “Come now, ride back with us. Let me help one of your servants here.”
Yan Xun dismounted, failing to recognize Chu Qiao due to the indigo scarf that coincidentally matched his robe that day.
He approached Viper, who, to his eyes, resembled a barbarian woman, and took the woman wearing the scarf into his arms. As he did, he felt a sharp pain in his hand but continued walking, assuming it was frostbite.
Viper was about to pull out her whip when He Xiao gave her a sharp look and a slight shake of his head. Viper understood and remained still.
Yan Xun cradled Chu Qiao in his arms. Two soldiers came to assist him, helping him onto his horse first and then supporting the unconscious woman as they gently lifted her onto his horse.
Her eyes remained closed, and she was unaware of her surroundings.
He Xiao could do nothing but allow his Commander-in-Chief to assist them. Viper, now quiet and serious, watched as Yan Xun gently laid the woman’s face against his chest, where she slept soundly like a baby.
Yan Xun guided his horse to walk slowly, careful not to disturb the woman in his arms. The rest of the escort, including He Xiao and Viper, mounted their horses, and they rode away from the icy lake, heading toward the grasslands of Yanbei.
As they traveled with the envoy, the Yanbei Prince felt a strange sense of comfort, cradling the mysterious woman as they journeyed toward Yanbei.
Chapter 32
Iron bones meets dry bones
Two women, their faces covered, suddenly ran through the woods.
They glanced at the trail, then hid behind one of the forest trees. One of the women drew her belt sword, and after ensuring no one had followed them, she returned it to its U-shaped sheath.
The belt sword, the lightest weapon she carried, had become her favorite due to its flexibility, making it ideal for any assassin’s job.
After completing her twilight spying mission, she finally arrived at her courtyard.
She changed her clothes, transforming into the splendid Princess of the Liang Palace. Thinking about her upcoming wedding to the Prince of Yanbei, she wondered whether it would be successful, but she couldn’t predict the outcome.
“The woman Yan Xun was carrying earlier… Who is she?” she whispered softly to herself.
Without Tao Ye, one of Xiao Yu’s spy networks was broken.
Things couldn’t go back to the way they were after Yuwen Yue captured and imprisoned her at the Green Hills courtyard. Tao Ye knew all the secret spy locations in Liang State, which Xiao Ce had exposed to teach his sister a lesson by using Yuwen Yue.
But in the end, it was Yuwen Yue who taught the Liang royals a hard lesson: “Do not play with fire when facing ice.”
As the incense from the burner mixed with the cold air, the princess’s mind and spirit drifted away, ready for rest and the start of a new day.
The night passed, and Chu Qiao woke up in the grasslands of Yanbei.
Smelling the fresh dew of the grass, she was filled with a familiar feeling—one of freedom and boundless space. Beside her was a dark figure. Startled, she moved closer and saw Viper sleeping sweetly beside the bed.
Viper hadn’t changed her clothes at all. She slept with messy hair and a trace of drool on her small pillow. Chu Qiao thought, “She’s an angel in human flesh.”
Viper, with no sense of time or people, shifted her head slightly.
Chu Qiao gazed at her funny face, tempted to poke her charming nose. Her lips, though, were so dark—Chu Qiao thought, “They would be beautiful if they were red, but why are they always the color of wine?”
This darkness made her seem frightening, but her eyes and brows were gentle, like the wind and sea.
Suddenly, He Xiao rushed to their door as dawn broke on the horizon, coming to fetch them with plans to explain later to Yan Xun.
The priority was to get these two women out of the Prince of Yanbei’s almost completed palace before the wedding. Yan Xun had been preoccupied not only with the construction of Yan’s future structures but also with strategic alliances. His concubines either brought wealth or allies, strengthening his army’s advance to the West.
Yan Xun was also deeply involved in a secret project, frequently retreating to the Xiu Xiu Mountains and returning occasionally to oversee the construction, including the Yan Palace.
He Xiao peeked through the window and whispered, “Mimi Gongzhu, are you awake?”
He knocked gently on the door again. Fortunately, no Yanbei guards were posted. Yan Xun, assuming they were He Xiao’s beautiful slaves, didn’t question their presence in one of the palace’s new VIP rooms.
Chu Qiao heard He Xiao and replied, “I am. Come in.”
Chu Qiao had hibernated for a year, much like Yan Xun, as she had been busy rebuilding the ruins of the Chu Jing kingdom.
The Qinghai Empire didn’t dare interfere with Chu Jing’s latest developments due to the kingdom’s poisonous walls.
Only the old residents of Chu Jing, who had heard about the secret princess’s arrival, returned through a hidden passage known only to the Chu Jing remnants.
He Xiao, panting, entered the room and saw Viper still asleep beside Chu Qiao.
Startled to see He Xiao, Chu Qiao noted his Yanbei General’s uniform, adorned with stars and armed with lethal weapons. Among the generals of Yanbei, he was known for his striking beauty.
But in the presence of Chu Qiao, the true beauty of the Xuili Army, He Xiao always stepped aside.
Chu Qiao teased, “A man hanging from a tree, are you a stowaway general?”
He Xiao placed one of his silk-wrapped bags down and replied, “A little flattery will spoil me.”
Smiling, he added, “You still haven’t removed your scarf. What’s hidden beneath it? Here, change into one of these Yanbei General uniforms you wore during one of our past battles. We’re heading to Hong Chuan first, and if it’s not too chaotic, we can tour Meilin and Changan.”
Surprised to see her old Yanbei General uniform, still in good condition, Chu Qiao was touched by He Xiao’s thoughtfulness, even if she barely remembered commanding him in the past.
Viper stirred at the sound, opening one eye and peeking at the feet of the handsome man before her. Without warning, she swung her whip, binding his feet and pulling him down.
Caught off guard, He Xiao tumbled onto the expensive carpet. “At ease, girl, it’s me, He Xiao,” he said.
Viper looked at him again, her eyes wide with surprise. “Really?” she grunted, releasing the whip from his feet without apology.
He Xiao, torn between embarrassment and pride, knelt beside her. Bending down, he lifted her chin, gazing into her angelic eyes. “Remember this man,” he said softly, “so you won’t ruin me the next time I wear this uniform.”
He Xiao gave Viper a sparkle in his eyes that could melt any woman in front of him, especially when he stood there, fully equipped in his Xuili Army General gear.
Viper caught the look from He Xiao but frowned and smacked his hand away from her jaw, to which He Xiao responded with a debonair smile.
While the two were having their moment, Chu Qiao interrupted, “I’m ready. Where are we heading again?” Both turned their heads toward her, and they were mesmerized by the sight.
Chu Qiao was once again dressed in her Yanbian General uniform, but beneath the uniform lay memories of her battles. The Xuili Army, whom she had once saved and nearly died fighting for at Hong Chuan, would meet her again soon.
He Xiao swallowed hard and said, “Perfect outfit. Let’s go before the Prince of Yanbei finds us.”
Viper nodded.
Hee!
The sound of horse hooves echoed as they sped away from the majestic Yan Palace.
All three horses responded to their masters’ commands, their mouths foaming with saliva as they galloped across the grasslands of Yanbei.
Both the horses and their riders, well-rested after a night’s sleep, were energized by the fresh air. They were excited for their brief stop in Hong Chuan and the upcoming journey to the Xuili Mountains, home of the Xuili Army headquarters.
Not far from the Meilin border pass, which had become Yan Xun’s foothold into Chang’an City, the Xuili Army—often referred to as the “Dry Bones”—would be revived from its pit of despair.
Yan Xun awoke feeling lighter than he had in a long time. For the first time since his past burdens had weighed him down, he felt a sense of peace.
As he closed his eyes and breathed in the fresh morning air, he realized that something in his heart had shifted. Perhaps it was because he had visited a place that offered him some sense of peace, or maybe it was the memories of his past slowly surfacing. Whatever it was, the darkness inside him was being replaced by light.
For the first time in a long while, he could smile at his servants, listen to the morning birds, and appreciate the scent of dew on the grass. The shackles of bloodshed and the echoes of lament were distant now. The silent grief, hatred, and thirst for revenge that had once consumed him were fading.
Finally, he felt he could accept whatever came his way and let go of the past.
Yan Xun, dressed in a light purple Jinhua robe, stood gazing at the golden horizon with his bright eyes and handsome sword-shaped eyebrows. He squinted slightly, smiled, and called out, “Send He Xiao to my office right now.”
A’Jing, one of his attendants, asked, “He Xiao, Your Highness?”
“Yes,” Yan Xun replied, his excitement clear. “Call him now!” He glanced at A’Jing, who still stood there instead of leaving to carry out the order.
“The General… He Xiao left this morning, Your Highness,” A’Jing said, concerned. “He left this letter for you.”
“What?” Yan Xun’s expression hardened as he squinted and frowned at A’Jing.
“He left with his company, the two women. One dressed like a barbarian, and the other seemed important to him. Before they left, the guards saw the woman dressed in a Yanbian General uniform, her indigo scarf covering her face, revealing only her eyes. She became a mysterious figure in the palace, and the guards believe she is He Xiao’s woman.”
Yan Xun’s emotions flared, rising like steam from a boiling teapot. However, instead of anger, he felt a mix of fury and excitement.
He couldn’t help but think He Xiao was lucky to have such a woman by his side. Unlike him, He Xiao had someone to share his good and bad days with.
Was Yan Xun envious of his general?
The woman seemed fragile and beautiful. Yan Xun couldn’t believe He Xiao had taken such a woman with him.
As his wedding day approached, Yan Xun found himself wanting, just once more, to meet this mysterious woman.
He wanted to understand why he felt this way. For the first time, he was interested in a woman under his general’s command.
Yan Xun knew he had the power to order her to his bed.
If it was simply lust, he could satisfy his desire and let her go, winning over He Xiao.
But if he felt something deeper than that, he would have lost to his general.
These unimaginable thoughts troubled him. He was tempted to wreck their relationship and claim the woman for himself.
Beneath his thoughts lay a desire to involve himself, to see where he stood with this woman he had carried in his arms that fateful night.
For him, it feels as though he has already done this for her a million times…
For a long time… And the worst part is, he doesn’t even know where this feeling is coming from.
It’s as if he’s running out of time, forced to choose whether to act or not. The first option feels better to him, making it one of his better days.
“A’jing, I need my horse,” he ordered.
“But, you haven’t read the letter,” A’jing replied, holding the unopened letter in his palm with both hands wide open. Yan Xun didn’t bother and said, “Read it yourself. I must see He Xiao again.” Quickly, the Prince tapped a bell, and fine maidservants entered to help him dress.
A’jing, confused, thought to himself, “What in the world did the Prince of Yanbei eat last night that made him wake up asking about He Xiao today?”
In fact, He Xiao had been one of his lowest priorities—his reports and communications often went unread. Yet now, despite the letter still being unopened, the Prince was personally going to meet him and ride to the Meilin border, a place he had neglected for some time.
Part of Yan Xun’s strategy had been to push the Xuili Army to its limits, allowing them to hold the line on their own while he redistributed resources to other parts of his growing empire. By distancing himself, he taught them to be self-reliant. Loyalty to him was a requirement, but their strength needed to stand independent of him. This was the only way they could repay the blood debt for the Yanbei citizens they betrayed—only when their bones were dry would the Dark Prince of Yanbei be satisfied.
The forest road was quiet, but there was a strange feeling of an unknown presence in the air.
The three warriors’ horses suddenly stopped and became dizzy. Without a word, the horses kneeled and fell asleep.
Chu Qiao, Viper, and He Xiao had no choice but to dismount, setting their saddlebags aside. Viper sensed a dark energy in the area and suspected someone had followed them.
Suddenly, ropes were thrown where they stood. Looking up, they saw three assassins approaching from the trees, while a hidden crossbow sniper lurked somewhere in the shadows.
The assassins threw star darts to separate them.
While they succeeded in scattering the group, Chu Qiao caught all three star darts. Feeling the cold hunting wind, she closed her eyes and, in one swift move, threw the darts back, hitting the hidden sniper with perfect precision—a bullseye.
The sniper never had a chance to react.
Viper, impressed by her Mimi Gongzhu, watched as He Xiao, eyes sharp and alert, drew his sword and began fighting the three assassins.
Viper leaped into the trees, waiting for her moment.
Chu Qiao stood still, watching as He Xiao, hungry for the swordfight, finished off the three assassins without any help. Viper clapped her hands, but He Xiao knew the applause wasn’t out of admiration. Viper jumped down from the tree, dusting herself off.
He Xiao felt disappointed, sensing that Viper hadn’t been impressed by his moves.
Chu Qiao, still on guard, suddenly noticed three more assassins descending from the trees like acrobats, exchanging places in mid-air.
He Xiao was caught, and Viper moved to help him. But before she could act, a belt sword whipped out and entangled her own weapon. Another assassin snagged her feet with a rope, leaving her hanging upside down, unable to escape.
Now, only Chu Qiao was left.
The ninja assassin shifted from defense to offense, hiding her sword at her waist. Chu Qiao, though her eyes were closed, sensed the assassin’s Skyshadow martial arts, feeling the movements through the air. She stood still, waiting for her enemies to tire themselves out.
Though unarmed, Chu Qiao had her bow and arrow, her scarf covering her face, her gongfu, and the Higanbana flower—its power starting to burn her back like a knife. She controlled its energy through an ancient oracle she recited, knowing she had to harness the flower’s power instead of letting it consume her.
The black-clad ninja assassin, her face hidden, finally spoke. “I didn’t come to kill, only to look at you.”
She was about to remove Chu Qiao’s scarf when suddenly, another figure entered the fray, attacking the ninja assassin. The two martial artists clashed, their movements like a deadly dance.
Blue feathers floated through the air, creating a confusing but beautiful scene, reminiscent of peacock feathers slowly drifting to the ground.
The black ninja remained unfazed, but the newcomer sustained a shallow cut to the palm. Dark red blood began to trickle down. Suddenly, the assassins fled, leaving He Xiao and Viper suspended in the air, dizzy as they spun on their ropes.
Chu Qiao opened her eyes, recognizing the newcomer as a familiar comrade. But instead of revealing herself, she silently approached, pulled out a small bottle of celadon, and applied the balm to the woman’s wounded palm.
Like magic, the wound healed slightly, turning into a dark brown scar. “The poison will stabilize. In three days, the wound will disappear, showing that the poison was cured by another poison,” Chu Qiao said coldly.
She then used He Xiao’s sword to cut the ropes, freeing He Xiao first, and Viper next. As Viper fell, she caught He Xiao mid-air, rescuing him as she always did.
But when it came time to cut Viper down, Chu Qiao did so without warning. He Xiao, expecting to catch her, was surprised when Viper leaped from the tree branch, landing gracefully on the ground.
He Xiao watched, stunned by Viper’s agility, but Viper appeared furious as her eyes landed on her sister, Zhong Yu.
He Xiao approached Zhong Yu and asked, “Are you hurt, General Zhong?”
“I’m fine, just a little dizzy,” Zhong Yu replied.
“Why did you come here? Are you escorting the World (Yan Xun) on his tour today?”
“Yes,” Zhong Yu answered. “The World is heading here. I’m his advance party. He’s going to Meilin to meet you.”
He Xiao thought to himself that perhaps the prince had read the letter, but even if he had, Yan Xun likely didn’t fully understand it.
He Xiao glanced at Viper, and Zhong Yu already knew that Viper was with Chu Qiao. She had kept this knowledge from Yan Xun but had told Mr. Wu, though only Zhong Yu and Mr. Wu knew the true reason behind it.
He Xiao turned to Viper and said, “I can’t go with you. Here, take this map and head to the Xuili Mountains with Mimi Gongzhu. I’ve arranged for an advance party, and a Xuili Lieutenant is waiting for your arrival.”
Chu Qiao and Viper nodded. Zhong Yu added, “A’Chu, we have a lot to catch up on. I’ll see you on the other side. Viper, please, take care of her this time… She’s worth more than anything else.”
Chu Qiao nodded, recognizing the familiar household name “A’Chu.” She suddenly remembered that she used to call Zhong Yu “A’Yu.” They had been through many battles together, and memories of their shared struggles flooded her mind.
Zhong Yu smiled slightly and bowed to Chu Qiao. He Xiao and Zhong Yu left, while Chu Qiao and Viper began their journey to the Xuili Mountains. He Xiao, meanwhile, headed to Hong Chuan to divert the Prince of Yanbei’s tour to Meilin, buying time for Chu Qiao to reunite with the Xuili Army.
Chapter 33
Survival of the Mounties
It was almost dawn when Chu Qiao, with her usual cold look, splashed some spring water onto the young lieutenant’s face. Suddenly, Ge Qi woke up, feeling as though he had been submerged in a body of water, looking almost drowned.
Startled by the sight of the woman in front of him, bloodied and with her hood open, he quickly stood and reached for his dagger, turning his back to her.
Viper stood behind him, towering over him. Her right hand tapped her folded whip against her left palm, her expression fierce. Chu Qiao, not wanting the young man to act defensively, said, “At ease.”
When Ge Qi heard the voice and confirmed it was a woman, he asked, “Are you back? General Chu Qiao of the Xiuli Army?”
Hearing this, Chu Qiao felt as though music had reached her ears, and she replied, “I am Chu Qiao, the lost general of the Xiuli Army, if that’s what you prefer to call me.”
The man dropped to his knees and exclaimed, “Long live the General! We have been searching for you for a year. We thought you had perished at the lake. Seeing you today, I thank the Qians (heavens) for granting us this miracle.”
Tears of joy filled Ge Qi’s eyes as he bowed his head to the ground. Chu Qiao approached him, lifted his head, and said, “Now, can you show me the troops of the Xiuli Army?”
“Yes, General,” Ge Qi said as he stood up. But before he could continue, Chu Qiao stopped him, saying, “Before we embark on another journey, have a hearty meal first.”
Viper brought out some cooked food, and Ge Qi’s eyes widened with delayed hunger. Without hesitation, he began to eat. He Xiao had sent supplies from Yanbei’s granary and storehouses, filling their saddlebags with rice, meat, medicine, light weapons, extra sword scabbards, and garments.
While Ge Qi ate, Chu Qiao tended to his infected foot. She cleaned the wound with spring water, wiped it with a white cloth, applied balm, and then wrapped it with a bandage.
As Ge Qi watched Chu Qiao, his tear-filled eyes softened. Though his mouth was full of food, he managed to bow and say, “Thank you, General Chu. I am ashamed to be in such poor condition, but I am grateful that you are here.”
“Stop thanking me,” Chu Qiao replied, “Finish your meal, and let’s meet the troops.”
Chu Qiao felt both renewed and burdened by the past. She couldn’t believe she had once been the general of a dying army. Now, she felt lost, angry, and conflicted—both merciful and cold toward whoever had caused this hardship for the Xiuli Army. Wearing the general’s uniform, she questioned whether she was worthy of it.
After a short while, the three of them walked across a barren landscape of grassy plains and into a forest. Chu Qiao asked for a brief stop and told Ge Qi he could change into one of the garments He Xiao had provided. Ge Qi gladly nodded and went to a nearby lake to wash and change.
In his new garment, Ge Qi looked youthful and handsome, his eyes now full of life and brightness, far removed from the weary man of the night before.
Chu Qiao retrieved a sword from her horse and handed it to Ge Qi. “I didn’t bring everything,” she said, “but we have enough for the troops. He Xiao reserved these for all of you. Take this.”
Still feeling overwhelmed, Ge Qi said, “I’d almost forgotten what a sword looks like. Thank you, General.”
Chu Qiao smiled and said, “Now, you won’t just remember it—you’ll feel its protection.”
Ge Qi, eager to test the sword, displayed some swordplay. Chu Qiao and Viper clapped in appreciation, and Ge Qi, bowing like an actor after a performance, suddenly felt a sharp pain as an arrow pierced his back.
Viper sprinted toward the forest in pursuit of the archer, while Chu Qiao rushed to Ge Qi’s side, saying, “At ease, I’ve got you.”
Exhausted, Ge Qi looked up at Chu Qiao’s calm and beautiful eyes and said, “I am glad to have seen the true beauty of the Xiuli Army—our general, who defended and fought for us, never abandoning us despite our mistakes. Now, I can say General Chu never left us, and she is with me in this moment.”
“Sshhh…” Chu Qiao hushed him. “Don’t speak such words yet. You’re young, and we will remove this arrow and return you to your troops.”
Ge Qi, his voice weakening, said, “I just wanted to thank you, General. Whatever happens, I’m happy to have seen your face, even if it means I die on these treacherous roads.”
A cold wind swept over them, and Chu Qiao was momentarily lost in memories of Feng Mian, the sunny and loyal servant of the Yanbei prince. She had held Feng Mian in the same way she now held Ge Qi. The memories rushed back to her like grains of sand slipping through an hourglass. A tear fell from her eye as she looked at Ge Qi, who was slipping away. The arrow had pierced close to his heart, and only a skilled healer could remove it without further damage.
Chu Qiao softly said, “You will live. You are too young to die like this—this is not the end of your story.”
Viper returned, having captured the archer, and when she saw Ge Qi, she cried out, “No, you cannot die like this! No! No!”
Viper, in her anger, strangled the enemy archer but refrained from killing him, as he had not yet been interrogated. Chu Qiao, staring coldly at the archer, said, “If he dies, I will send your soul to the underworld.” The enemy archer shuddered, feeling goosebumps rise on his skin, terrified by Chu Qiao’s words.
Viper then commanded the enemy archer, “Kneel and lay your head to the ground!” The archer obeyed, his hands and feet bound, leaving him unable to move or escape.
Viper approached Chu Qiao, who was cradling Ge Qi, and said, “Mimi Gongzhu, if you wish, you can use your Hing Ba Na. As the leader of the Wind and Cloud Decree, you possess that power, but the consequences are unknown. Last time, it took away all your memories. Are you willing to lose a part of your mortal self again to save this young man?”
Chu Qiao hadn’t fully regained her memories, yet now she was faced with sacrificing another part of herself to save someone else.
Looking at Ge Qi, though they had only met the night before, she felt an inexplicable connection to him—similar to what she had felt for Feng Mian in her memories. There had been moments in the past when she wished to help but couldn’t.
This time, she made her decision. “I shall do it,” she told Viper.
Gently, Chu Qiao laid Ge Qi’s head down as his eyes remained closed, pain etched on his face.
She stood and slowly removed her bloodied hood, letting it fall to the ground.
Now in her Xiuli general’s uniform, she took it off as well, revealing only her white inner garment. Her body, fragile and delicate, seemed out of place for a warrior, and her face was calm but void of emotion. The flower tattoo on her back began to glow, igniting with fire. Once again, she felt the searing pain of the inscription. Before she closed her eyes, Viper whispered, “Mimi Gongzhu, you know how to return. At this time, in this place, I trust you.”
…
And once again, Chu Qiao used her Hing Ba Na. Whether willingly or not, the consequences of wielding such power—bringing someone back from death—meant crossing the Higanbana flowers of the forgotten rivers of the underworld. This power could alter the course of time and the destiny of the person she sought to save.
What happened next…
In a trance-like state, an unearthly light came to the soul of a young man walking through a field of flowers. He looked around and said, “I’ve never seen this place before,” but the sweet fragrance enticed him to keep walking. As he gazed upward, he saw an endless field of flowers.
A gentle wind blew across his face, and when he looked down, he noticed a narrow path, just wide enough for his footsteps. It seemed as though this was the only way forward, the only path he must follow.
As the fragrance of the flowers intensified, so did his urge to continue. He walked endlessly until he came upon an old man in a black hood standing by the shore of a misty, calm river. A small boat waited beside him.
The young man strained to see what lay on the other side, but there was only darkness and swirling mist—no one had ever returned to tell of it.
He could not speak to ask the old man anything; it seemed he was only allowed to act. Accepting the old man’s outstretched hand was his only option.
…
Flower Higanbana
Somewhere between darkness and light, Chu Qiao arrived in the underworld, her indigo scarf covering her face. With every step she took, plum blossoms fell onto the underworld’s soil, their sweet scent filling the air, calming the spies and other underworld entities.
She moved gracefully, as if parading before a group of powerful spirits. These spies were not ordinary beings but hybrids of human souls and spiritual entities—angels of both light and darkness. Their nature was indescribable, a mysterious combination of the mortal and the supernatural.
They all bowed to the princess as plum blossoms fell along her path, and she continued to walk, her eyes closed.
She suddenly sensed that time had stopped. The tattoo on her back began to rise from her skin, as though leaving her body. It spiraled through the air, forming the appearance of a Higanbana flower.
In an instant, she found herself at the forgotten river.
The ancient man, surprised by her presence, bowed and accepted the Higanbana flower. It hovered before him, and his sad, droopy eyes, lined with wrinkles, revealed the passage of time and age.
Chu Qiao then closed her eyes, and the old man took the young man’s hand. The young man gave his hand willingly when, suddenly, an unblinding light flashed before him, and like an eternity, he disappeared from sight.
Suddenly, Chu Qiao found herself among sand dunes and endless deserts. She knew she had to find her path.
In the space between consciousness and unconsciousness, she instinctively knew where the trail lay. This was not her first journey here. She walked with more confidence this time, though her empty stare reflected a deep sense of loss. Her memories had once again faded, sacrificed in exchange for another life.
Like the lyrics of a song, her mantra echoed in her mind:
“Look at the state we’re in, this docile apathy; we fight and stumble aimlessly.”
“We broke our promises one too many times; when hope is a ghost, fear survives.”
“I’m just gonna sit here, I’m just gonna stay here for a while; need to catch my breath here. What do we do now?”
“Look at the empty stares of once mighty men, fallen and fragile, so unsure. Who do we look to now? How can we trust again, when hope is a ghost, and fear survives?”
This was the price of being the secret princess—gaining access to hidden pathways and other dimensions. While her mortal body remained suspended on earth, her soul journeyed through a thousand deserts, descending into hell but not lost.
There was no sense of time until she found her way and freed herself from this beautiful curse. The price of her powers was harrowing: the loss of her memories, a toll beyond the reach of any ordinary human soul.
Ge Qi suddenly awakened, feeling as though he had only been asleep for hours when in reality, a week had passed. He found himself back at the Xiuli Army post on Xiuli Mountain.
He awoke to a mild pain in his back and saw one of the Xiuli medics standing nearby. Meeting the medic’s eyes, Ge Qi asked, “Where is General Chu?”
The medic, his eyes kind, gently replied, “What are you talking about?”
Just then, a young Xiuli lieutenant, Wu Danyu, from the Du Wei troops, entered. Sensing Ge Qi’s confusion, he asked the medic to give Ge Qi some time to recover. “Maybe the medicines used to treat his wounds are making him hallucinate,” Wu Danyu speculated. “His wounds healed faster than usual. How did that happen?”
No one could explain it, but the most important thing was that Ge Qi was alive.
Feeling reassured by his comrade’s presence, Ge Qi said, “I know I’m not crazy. I saw General Chu. She was with a girl whose lips were like fire, and she had a long whip.” Ge Qi sat up, eager to tell more of his story.
Wu Danyu, though perplexed, couldn’t make sense of what Ge Qi was describing. He gently pushed Ge Qi back onto the bed and said, “Alright, we’ll talk more once you’ve healed completely. For now, you need more rest. Get back on your feet, okay?”
Smiling, Wu Danyu patted him on the shoulder. Ge Qi, sensing that no one believed him, closed his eyes and reminisced about his last moments with General Chu.
A Rewind to a Week Ago…
Viper took out her magical whip and recited ancient oracles. The whip transformed into a golden whip, glowing as it floated in midair. As light radiated from it, Viper closed her eyes. The whip gently descended onto Ge Qi’s back, carefully removing the arrow while its light closed the wound.
For a time, Ge Qi’s body was dead, but then he took a breath and came back to life.
The enemy archer had been blinded by Viper’s spell and hadn’t witnessed what had transpired. Once the spell was complete, Viper freed the archer, who was condemned to live the rest of his life blind. This blindness was the price for making Viper and Chu Qiao use their powers. Meanwhile, Mimi Gongzhu, Chu Qiao, had descended into the underworld, seeking her way back through the crepuscular light.
Exhausted from the effort, Viper placed Ge Qi on one of their horses. Whispering into the horse’s ear, she let it smell the map He Xiao had given them. The horse suddenly took off in a swift run and disappeared from sight.
The horse arrived at the Xiuli detachment’s army gate, and the guards were astonished to see Ge Qi. They immediately tended to him and collected the saddlebags. The horse, however, turned and galloped back to its master. The guards, intrigued, chased after it.
Their horses were unmatched, even compared to the malnourished-looking ones that others rode.
Viper, drained of energy, collapsed in the forest. Chu Qiao lay unconscious beside her. The horse arrived, sniffing Viper, its master. Viper, barely conscious, looked at the horse with half-opened eyes before drifting off to sleep.
The next day, Viper felt restored as her chi flowed again. She moved Chu Qiao to a safe spot, still near the forest.
Chu Qiao’s body was cold, and her palms were slightly burned—evidence of what had occurred. She lay sweetly asleep under the forest’s mossy canopy, with birds singing overhead. It was a quiet day, one where time seemed to pass unnoticed. How long would it take for her to recover?
Viper could only hope it wouldn’t be as long as the time she had rescued Chu Qiao from the frozen lake, a recovery that had taken many weeks before Chu Qiao could stand again.
The young lieutenant Ge Qi had recovered and returned to his usual duties. The Xiuli army had resumed normal operations, becoming a sturdy fortress for Yanbei at the Meilin border pass.
Wu Danyu frequently visited his recovering comrade, and they often reminisced about the past. Ge Qi began to speak: “After the Xiaoqi cavalry’s bloody war with the Fire Foxes of Yanbei, they set Beishou City and Hong Chuan City on fire and captured the Xiuli army. We were prisoners of war until Prince Yuan Che converted the Xiuli army into a subordinate force under Wei’s Xiaoqi army.”
“The bitter past of Xiuli once belonged to General Liu Ziye, who later committed suicide rather than serve Prince Yuan Che. The general’s hope was shattered after hearing the news that the entire Yan royal family—except for the hostage prince Yan Xun—had been executed in Shen Jin Gong. Strategically, Prince Yuan Che appointed He Xiao, the only one left capable of leading the Xiuli army.”
“Do you remember the first time we met General Chu?”
Wu Danyu nodded. “We met her dressed in a casual archer’s outfit, a beautiful young woman who anyone might underestimate.”
“We first met General Chu on the military grounds of Xiaoqi camp,” he continued, “after the Wei emperor had issued this decree to the entire Xiaoqi camp:
‘To govern the world with civilization and suppress rebellion with military might. The commanders and generals are the pillars of the nation and the mainstays of the government. Thus, I promote talented persons based on their ability, not their background. The lady Chu Qiao is well-educated and trained in military exercises, both virtuous and talented. She treats her Lord with loyalty, serves the emperor with honesty, and acts like Mulan. She is a model to others. She is appointed Coach of Arrow in Xiaoqi camp. I hope she will die honorably on the battlefield, forget selfishness for the public good, and not disappoint my expectations.'”
Ge Qi stared into the distance, recalling the moment. “I remember the first time we encountered her on the military grounds. Vice Commander He Xiao had a thick rope around his neck, his hands bound, while Commander-in-Chief Xue Zhelig hurled accusations at him. They had promised to execute him for plotting rebellion among the troops. I was there, trying to reconcile the two commanders.”
Wu Danyu, lost in memory, added, “I remember those events clearly. The order for execution had been given, and our deputy was about to be killed when General Chu arrived. You bravely stood up for the deputy, pleading that he had no intention of leading a rebellion.”
Ge Qi smiled. “You gave the second motion, asking Commander Xue to forgive him. Looking back now, it was reckless. We were ready to have our necks cut for that!”
Wu Danyu laughed. “Do you remember why General He Xiao always fought with Commander Xue?”
Ge Qi chuckled. “Because the deputy general kept talking about going back home to Yanbei.”
They both shared a hearty laugh. “As trivial as it was, they accused He Xiao of shaking the Xiuli army’s morale,” Wu Danyu added, still laughing.
Ge Qi continued, “I also remember how General Chu defended He Xiao that day.”
Wu Danyu nodded. “General Chu demanded evidence, asking to see a report first. Commander Xue said there was no need for the general to know—he was simply ‘cleaning house.’ General Chu responded that the soldier he wanted to execute wasn’t just anyone, but the Vice Commander of Xiaoqi camp and the General of the Xiuli troop, responsible for the safety of Chang’an City. She advised him to report to Prince Yuan Che or General Yuwen first. The look on Commander Xue’s face was priceless.”
Ge Qi laughed. “I’ll never forget how his face turned sour, like he wanted to hit someone but couldn’t.”
Wu Danyu joined in the laughter. “That square face of his—ha, ha!”
Suddenly, a loud knock echoed through the camp. A Xiuli guard approached and reported that someone was waiting outside the gate.
Ge Qi asked, “Who are they?”
The junior guard replied, “We couldn’t see their faces, but they gave us this…”
Ge Qi stared in shock. “My dagger! Wu Danyu, I’m not crazy—it’s General Chu and the whipping girl!”
Wu Danyu raised a curious brow. “Are you sure? Let’s check from the watchtower.”
They hurried to the watchtower and saw two figures in black hoods, riding sturdy brown horses.
A Xiuli guard beside them exclaimed, “Lieutenant, that’s the horse that brought you to the gates and then disappeared so fast our horses couldn’t keep up!”
Ge Qi, excited, shouted, “Let them pass!”
A cracking sound followed as the gates of Xiuli Mounties opened to allow the two figures inside.
Chu Qiao, with her black hood concealing her face, appeared on one horse, while Viper, with the same blood-red hood, rode beside her. It was as if none of the hell they had gone through a week before had ever happened.
Ge Qi and Wu Danyu descended and bowed to Chu Qiao, whose lips, soft and pink like cotton candy, were the only visible part of her face under the black hood. Viper stood behind her, more mysterious, choosing not to reveal herself to the gathering crowd.
Their arrival caused a stir, and soon soldiers began to gather, forming a circle around them. Some were drawn to the softness of Chu Qiao’s lips, while others were captivated by Viper’s darker, villainous presence. It was as though light and darkness had arrived together at the camp.
Chu Qiao, her head bowed, felt the weak chi and energy all around her. Slowly, she let her black hood fall, revealing the bloody red interior, which only intensified the fierce expression on her face. The soldiers were astonished, recognizing her immediately.
Ge Qi had been anticipating this moment, and now it had arrived.
“It’s the lost General Chu! She’s returned!” The words rippled through the crowd, and excitement buzzed among the military men. Viper, still concealed, remained silent, not planning to meet the troops just yet.
Ge Qi called out, “Yes, this is General Chu! The general who saved me from a deadly arrow and brought provisions to our camp!”
The crowd grew louder, and all around, soldiers dropped to their knees, their boots and uniforms muddy and torn. They wore worn-out helmets, battered shields, and fading breastplates. The once-proud Xiuli Army, the Fire Fox of Yanbei, now looked ragged and weary.
Some men had grown old in the struggle, their uniforms ripped, but they continued to stand and fight. Others wept, while many just wanted to glimpse General Chu up close. They thanked the Qians for her return, vowing never to leave her side again.
Chu Qiao should have felt strange, as she had given away many of her memories. But at that moment, she remembered clearly—the faces around her, the tears of joy, and the sounds of victory. This world was where she felt most alive.
This was the place where her heart raced, where she could feel the people’s hope renewed, their despair transformed into joy. This was her dream world—one where everyone would be free, where there would be no more slaves, no more wars. Only stars shining and people living in peace.
In a hushed tone, she finally said, “This is my faith!”
Chu Qiao walked slowly, and the crowd parted to let her pass. She approached the tattered Xiuli flag at the corner of the camp, took it in her hands, and carried it to the center.
All eyes were on her. Chu Qiao’s face remained calm but determined. Viper stood waiting in the center, while Ge Qi and Wu Danyu followed closely behind.
Suddenly, Chu Qiao raised the Xiuli flag high and planted it firmly into the ground.
The wind blew, scattering leaves into the air. The force of Chu Qiao’s action sent a vibration through the entire camp. The soldiers felt it and shouted in unison, “This is my faith!”
Chapter 34
The Path of The World
After Zhong Yu attached the little note to the pigeon’s feet, she freed the bird, and it flew far from where she stood.
“May you reach the man in the Longji Mountains,” she whispered softly.
Yan Xun arrived in Hong Chuan City, and the people were overjoyed to see their King-to-be.
Yan Xun, dressed in his battle gear—dark purple silk, a silver breastplate inlaid with gold, his hair as black as ink, a majestic long red cape, black boots with gold accents, and his fresh, fierce, and handsome face—exuded strength and stability. His sword-like brows and fiery eyes gave the people of Hong Chuan hope for a promising future.
“Long live Prince Yan Xun, long live!” shouted the people, filling the bustling streets with cheers and joy.
Like a parade, Yan Xun nodded and greeted them with a formal but not somber expression. After the ceremony of honors, he went straight to his newly built mansion.
This was a surprise to the people, as the Yanbei Prince had not set foot in Hong Chuan for a long time. Now, his sudden presence filled the air with excitement as the people prepared for a meet-and-greet later.
Yan Xun, having settled into his mansion, couldn’t ignore the crowds. Interested parties flocked to the mansion, asking the Prince’s envoy for a chance to meet him and discuss their concerns.
“A’Jing, go to He Xiao’s place. I must meet him immediately; it cannot be postponed.”
“Yes, Your Highness. I will go right away,” A’Jing responded.
Feeling relieved, Yan Xun was soon approached by another servant, inquiring if there would be time for consultations with the interested parties from the Hong Chuan nobility.
But Yan Xun waved him off, uninterested in seeing anyone except He Xiao.
Zhong Yu entered and said, “Your Highness, what’s the hesitation? The people of Hong Chuan want to meet the Prince and offer gifts from the nobles.”
Yan Xun, ignoring her words, replied, “If A’Jing doesn’t bring He Xiao, you will be my last resort.”
Zhong Yu nodded and replied, “Consider it done, Your Highness.”
Unfortunately, He Xiao was proving hard to reach. He had briefly stopped by his ancestral house but quickly moved on to Xiuli Mountain to meet Chu Qiao and Viper.
Another unfortunate turn: He Xiao had learned of what happened to Ge Qi, and his hope wavered once more. “I lost her again,” he thought. “I hope she can find her way back to Xiuli.”
He Xiao could only rely on Viper to bring Ge Qi back to their meeting place. He stayed for a night at Xiuli Mountain before heading to the Meilin border pass to visit his junior and senior officers.
He Xiao left Wu Danyu at their headquarters camp to help Ge Qi.
Yan Xun’s face was unreadable when he heard the news from A’Jing. Furious, he clenched his fist and ordered, “Get out and tell Zhong Yu to bring He Xiao!”
A’Jing, trying to calm the situation, handed Yan Xun the unopened letter that He Xiao had written while they were in Yan Palace. “Your Highness, He Xiao insisted you read this letter. It might contain something important.”
Yan Xun, still upset, snatched the letter from A’Jing’s hand. A’Jing quickly excused himself to search for the feather girl.
Yan Xun couldn’t sleep that night. Restlessly turning in his bed, he finally got up, went to the window, and gazed at the new moon casting shadows over the far wetlands of Hong Chuan. The night was deep, and the cold wind blew like a knife to the skin.
Yan Xun didn’t understand why he was feeling this way. He should have been preparing for his upcoming wedding, yet here he was, chasing after a Xiuli General.
“Should I just read the letter He Xiao left?” he wondered.
He walked over to his desk, where he had placed the letter, and opened it.
Your Highness,
I hope you do not suspect me and will restore your trust in Xiuli. I have a revelation, but I cannot yet share it with you. When the time is right, I will introduce her to you.
He Xiao, Deputy General
Yan Xun mused, “Is He Xiao getting remarried? After all, he’s still single. His wife was killed while pregnant, and he has no children.”
The woman He Xiao had taken from Yan Palace intrigued Yan Xun more than any battle he’d fought. Since that moment, Yan Xun hadn’t stopped searching for him.
“Perhaps He Xiao is proposing to the woman I once carried by the frozen lake. Maybe this is something that will happen soon,” Yan Xun thought.
“If that’s the case, I should meet this woman before He Xiao marries her—just one last time before I let go.”
A notion took root in Yan Xun’s heart: “Maybe, just this once, before I finally let go, I should meet her. Even if I have to take her from He Xiao.”
Yan Xun felt increasingly unstable after reading the letter. He had never experienced such intense emotions, but they reminded him of one person: A’Chu.
Although Yan Xun never verbalized his feelings for A’Chu, his actions spoke louder than words. Their bond was clearly more than friendship, though not officially romantic.
They cared for and understood each other like no one else. Yan Xun had always planned to make A’Chu his wife, envisioning her as the Queen of Yanbei after he reclaimed his throne.
Yan Xun had even carved a jade pendant, intending it as a gift for their honeymoon night. But the path to that future was still far off. At the time, Yanbei was in chaos, and he spent most of his days in military camps, with Chu Qiao by his side as his General strategist and confidante.
However, all of those plans were shattered after the frozen lake tragedy. Once again, Yan Xun was haunted by the pain of seeing Chu Qiao on the lake.
The conditions had already been set.
There is no mercy on the battlefield, not even for Chu Qiao, yet Yan Xun spared her life. To his surprise, Chu Qiao placed no value on this gesture. She turned her back on him to save Yuwen Yue, something Yan Xun could never understand and something Chu Qiao would never forgive.
Yan Xun closed his eyes, replaying the scenario in his mind.
He smiled to himself, as if it were happening at that moment. He had already planned it all in his head—how he would make the girl fall in love with him, only to leave her, ensuring she would return to him. Finally, he wihispered, “I must make a move. If I wait for He Xiao, it’ll be like a cat chasing a mouse.”
Yan Xun, reminiscing about the time he carried the woman from the frozen lake, opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling of his mansion. Like a young man in love, his mouth was slightly open, forming a natural “O.” He lay there, lost in thought, the woman—an unwelcome but beautiful intruder—occupying his mind every waking hour.
It was still dark, but the horizon was starting to brighten. Roosters crowed, and morning birds began to sing, signaling the break of dawn, while the prince drifted into thought.
A week later, Chu Qiao and Viper went to Xiuli Mountain.
“Waaahhh!” A’Jing shouted.
“What?”
Yan Xun casually woke up, showing no reaction to A’Jing’s sudden outburst. He asked, “Why are you waking everyone up, and why are you looking at me like I’ve just returned from hell?”
Yan Xun stood from his bed, grabbing his purple robe and preparing to leave when A’Jing exclaimed, “The World, what happened to you? Did someone punch you last night? Look at yourself!”
Yan Xun tilted his head slightly and looked into a large mirror with intricate vine carvings painted in rose gold and silver. “Oh, these dark circles?” he commented.
A’Jing replied, “Do you want me to call a doctor?”
Yan Xun laughed and said, “No doctor can cure me, only He Xiao.”
A’Jing’s brows creased as he studied Yan Xun. He squinted and said, “No, you can’t be…”
Yan Xun raised his eyebrows and asked, “What do you mean?”
A’Jing hesitated, speaking slowly, as though he were about to tell a long story. Meanwhile, Yan Xun dressed in his robe and slippers.
A’Jing swallowed, then said, “I know you haven’t seen He Xiao in a while, and lately, he’s been looking quite handsome. There’s a brightness in his eyes. He’s single and attractive, but if I tell you what I’m thinking, I hope you won’t be offended or chop off my head later. I’ve been with you for years, and I’ve never suspected that you… you might…”
Yan Xun, growing impatient, said with an annoyed tone, “I’m waiting. What do you mean?”
A’Jing turned away, but Yan Xun grabbed his shoulders and spun him back around. A’Jing then exclaimed, “Nyaha! Ugly face!” He covered his eyes with his hands to avoid making eye contact with Yan Xun.
Yan Xun laughed and, with curiosity in his eyes, said, “Ha, ha, ha. Come on, tell me, what do you mean?”
A’Jing, feeling embarrassed, stretched his neck toward Yan Xun’s ear and whispered, “Don’t tell me you fancy He Xiao?”
Yan Xun raised his hand and lightly smacked A’Jing’s nape. “Hey! I’m not a pervert!” he said coldly, with no emotion.
“Ow! That hurts!” A’Jing cried out.
He made a peace sign with his hand, smiling like a mischievous boy, and said, “I was just making sure you weren’t!” A’Jing scratched his head, pulling funny faces as Yan Xun smirked.
Yan Xun was about to hit him again when A’Jing grinned and said, “Enough. I know you’re not.”
“At least that’s clear,” Yan Xun replied, walking out of his room with A’Jing following close behind. Yan Xun then asked, “Any news from Zhong Yu yet?”
“No, it’s been a week since she left. I wonder why she hasn’t returned yet. Maybe…”
Yan Xun stopped him mid-sentence and said, “Don’t mention it. She won’t fail me.”
A’Jing fell silent. They walked along the corridors, Yan Xun in his purple morning robe, looking fresh and handsome despite the bags under his eyes. They reached the garden of the Hong Chuan Yan Mansion, where the prince watched the leaves fall.
Yan Xun wanted to speak but hesitated. After swallowing, he finally said to A’Jing, “When I was the Swallow (Yan Xun’s codename) back in the Wei state, in the City of Changan, where A’Chu…”
A’Jing interrupted, “The World, it’s been two years, and you still haven’t forgotten General Chu.”
“What if…” Yan Xun paused, and A’Jing waited for him to continue. Yan Xun hesitated again, then changed the subject. “Have you prepared everything I asked you to buy?”
“Yes, Your Highness. Is there anything else you want to add?”
“If you’ve bought everything, there’s nothing more to add.”
“I am curious, what are you planning to do for the next seven days? The provisions seem to be calculated for a seven-day journey or something like that. Can I ask the World to be honest about what this is all about?”
Yan Xun remained silent, his eyes fixed on the falling leaves. He was still contemplating whether or not to reveal the forbidden desire in his heart.
“It’s confidential, but what if I tell you…” he began, then paused, smiling as he continued watching the leaves fall. The cold wind gently blew against his face, making his youthful features—accentuated by dark circles—appear more masculine.
His beard had grown slightly along his jaw, enhancing his handsome, rugged appearance. Like an experienced prince with an alluring charm, there was a hidden seduction in his smile.
Yan Xun had not seemed so lighthearted since that encounter on the frozen lake with He Xiao, the whipping girl, and the woman with the indigo scarf. Those around him noticed a change—his attitude toward his inferiors had become less suspicious and unpredictable.
A’Jing responded, “As long as the World won’t regret it, whatever you’re planning is fine. Since you’re getting married in a few months, you should do all the things you want to do while you’re still free. Don’t hesitate. Take this time to be whole and happy. You’ve sacrificed so much for the sake of Yanbei’s citizens.”
Yan Xun felt as if he’d received a blessing from a parent through A’Jing’s words. He turned, placed his hand on A’Jing’s shoulder, and said, “So please, while I’m away, stay alive and don’t do anything foolish.”
With a bright smile reminiscent of his younger days, Yan Xun flashed his perfect white teeth, a heavenly sparkle in his eyes. It had been a long time since anyone had seen the prince in such a good mood.
A’Jing, teary-eyed, replied in a childlike voice, “Why do I feel like you’re going on your honeymoon first and getting married later? Tell me!”
Yan Xun burst into laughter. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to return and produce a good Yan royal breed. Remember, this handsome face is priceless.”
A’Jing, still teary-eyed, looked at Yan Xun with sadness, feeling the separation anxiety from his prince. “Just come back home, and when you do, make sure you’re ready to move on, healthy, and with your head still attached to your neck!”
Yan Xun, feeling a bit sad to leave A’Jing—who had been more than just a servant but a brother, chef, comrade, eunuch, and general—replied, “That’s a lot of requirements. Are you the one leaving or me?” he joked in a happy tone. He smiled at A’Jing, who was then dismissed to prepare some of the men who would accompany him on his journey.
Back in his room, Yan Xun looked at two metal masquerade masks—one for him and one for another woman. He preferred the purple mask and reserved the gold one. He also checked the provisions and other necessities for his journey. A’Jing had packed everything, and Yan Xun was set to go.
He rang the bell, summoning his servants, who led him to his prepared warm bath. The bath, made from a large wooden square, was tiled with wood, and steam hovered over the water, creating an almost sacred atmosphere.
The servants wore blindfolds, and once Yan Xun was confident no one was watching, he turned his back, raised his hands to his waist, and gently removed his robes. The garment fell gracefully, revealing scars and wounds from countless battles—a testament to his survival.
As he touched the deep scar on his left shoulder, he closed his eyes. Yan Xun slowly stepped into the warm water, soaking his feet and letting the heat envelop him.
In these private moments, although he had survived the physical pain, the bitterness remained. One venomous thought plagued him: the memory of his childhood friend, Yuwen Yue, who had taken advantage of Yan Xun’s lowest moment. It tormented him, leaving him feeling dead inside, even though he was still alive.
No pain could compare to this—betrayed by a best friend who stood by as the Yan royal family was slaughtered. Yan Xun knew Yuwen Yue’s cold and dangerous nature. As an emotionless aristocrat, Yuwen Yue would never relinquish his entitlements. From that moment on, Yan Xun’s heart had changed irrevocably.
Had he and Xing’er escaped on their first attempt, had Yuwen Yue not thwarted it with his servant’s arrow, would history have been different? Would his family still be alive?
Sitting in the bath, with one foot flat on the wooden edge and the other submerged, Yan Xun rested his arms on the side. He tilted his head, realizing he no longer sought answers. Instead, he sought justice through the sweet arms of revenge. The earth had already sealed its fate, and the deaths of his family were an indelible part of history. The noble blood of Yan would never be at peace until the last drop of blood was avenged.
Drunk on his thoughts, Yan Xun allowed bitterness to overshadow the good in his heart. It protected him from being vulnerable—an easy mark for those who plotted behind his back. Who could understand better than someone who had seen it all, tasted the indescribable pain of losing his family? No one could blame him for what he had become.
As the foam thickened and hovered around him, Yan Xun’s thoughts shifted again to the woman he couldn’t forget, the one who occupied his mind every waking hour. His desire for her grew daily, though he had no idea who she truly was or where she came from. He once again compared her to A’Chu and wondered why it had to happen twice in his life—both women sharing similar qualities.
Why couldn’t he settle for someone who would help him rule, someone who would elevate him as king? Why did he have to silently compete for another man’s woman?
Yan Xun had patiently waited and, in his own way, had tried to prove himself worthy of A’Chu, hoping to win her over when she was still Xing’er, a maidservant in Yuwen Yue’s courtyard. He had never complained about her being Yuwen Yue’s bedchamber maid, instead supporting her efforts. He continued visiting Yuwen Yue’s courtyard, hoping A’Chu would see his intentions.
She was the only girl for him, and those moments were the most beautiful days of his life. After the frozen lake tragedy, when she disappeared, Yan Xun felt as if he were as good as dead.
Yan Xun now understood that wisdom often comes after everything has settled. But how could he return to the past, and would time allow him to correct his mistakes? What if… what if… what if… those were the only words his heart could utter.
Yan Xun scooped water into his palm and let it drip through his fingers. The tiny drops echoed loudly in the quiet royal bath.
After a few more hours of bathing, Yan Xun emerged from the pool, picking up his robe from the wooden tiles. At the clap of his hands, his servants removed their blindfolds and followed him back to his room, where they helped him dress in his princely battle garments.
Several hours later, Yan Xun stood fully dressed, looking regal from head to toe. His hands were strong, and his young face appeared both gentle and formal. Outside, more servants approached, fitting him with his metal mask and black hood.
A’Jing came forward, kneeling to present Yan Xun’s sword. Yan Xun took it, mounted his horse, and with a formal expression, bid farewell to everyone. Five men followed him, along with two extra horses carrying saddlebags filled with provisions.
Autumn trees lined his path, their leaves in hues of brown, red, and yellow. The wind brushed the ground, carrying the scent of wood and earth. Leaves swayed in the air, guiding Yan Xun toward his heart’s desire, ready to embrace the sweet moments of stolen time.
Chapter 35
Summer fell in to Fall
Chu Qiao and Viper were given the VIP General Quarters to stay in, and Chu Qiao felt at home and comfortable, even though the room looked dilapidated and poorly maintained.
Several housekeepers of the Xiuli military camp, who had cleaned the room earlier, knocked on the door to deliver a brazier, a pack of incense, a burner, and some tea candles to add coziness to the room. Chu Qiao opened the door and said:
“This is a luxury, a welcome fit for a General like me, but please set these aside. Thank you for bringing fire to ease the cold nights ahead.”
Everyone bowed, careful not to speak, and quietly left the General Quarters.
At nightfall, Ge Qi wrote a letter to be sent to General He Xiao, informing him that General Chu had finally arrived after a week of searching and waiting. They had reached Xiuli Mountain.
Ge Qi knew the Deputy General would be overjoyed, but he wouldn’t be able to come immediately due to the current situation of the Xiuli army at the Meilin border pass.
However, Ge Qi noticed a shadow, ninja-like, moving outside his quarters. Suspecting an intruder, he looked out of the window and saw a shadowy figure jump from the camp and climb a tree before vanishing.
Ge Qi had not yet been able to speak with General Chu. Their last conversation had been brief, and soon after, General Chu was gone again by the time Ge Qi awoke, recovering from his wounds.
Now, there was another danger threatening his reunion with General Chu, and something about it didn’t feel right.
Yan Xun had waited patiently for twilight. In the absence of Zhong Yu, Yan Xun sent a junior spy to gather information about He Xiao’s whereabouts and to locate the woman and another barbaric girl.
The spy returned just before twilight and reported both good and bad news to the Prince.
“Your Highness, I could not find He Xiao, but I can confirm that the whipping girl and another woman, who looks like a general, are in the Xiuli headquarters camp. They have settled in the Xiuli General Quarters.”
Yan Xun turned his back and said, “Good.”
Yan Xun then briefed his five royal escorts, including the junior spy, on the rules and protocols to follow. He said, “I don’t understand why I have to become an intruder in my own borders and spy on my own army, but one thing is certain: we have a mission to accomplish.
This means no one will draw their sword. I will enter the Xiuli headquarters alone.”
“The World, we are with you, but your life will be in danger,” one of the concerned royal escorts said.
Yan Xun replied calmly, “Are you suggesting that I cannot defend myself, or that the Xiuli army would attack once they recognize me?”
“They will recognize you, Your Highness, but I am concerned for your safety. I took an oath to guard your life,” the escort replied.
“Very well,” Yan Xun said. “You will accompany me—just you. The rest will remain here and stay alert. Change your clothing; we will go in disguised.”
After a while, Yan Xun dismissed everyone and began to walk. He had transformed from a prince-warrior into a poor man in shabby clothing. His horse, draped in black cloth, was unrecognizable as an esteemed mount.
If the guards underestimated them, even seeing His Highness’ black horse, and bypassed the search, they could pass without being identified as VIPs.
After an hour of walking, they finally reached the Xiuli gate, which was about to close. Suddenly, the royal escort rushed to stop the gate from closing.
One of the guards, angry, said, “You are unidentified. The Xiuli headquarters camp is closing at this hour. We cannot let you in.”
“Is it not too early to close?” asked the royal escort. “I have an urgent matter to discuss with Lieutenant Wu Danyu. I need to deliver an important message.”
“We have to close the gate early. We detected an intruder earlier. I’m sorry, but we cannot accommodate you. Come back tomorrow.”
Ge Qi, watching from the tower, noticed the two unidentified figures and sent someone to initiate an interrogation. A man with a long beard, robust build, and strong presence approached the gate to question them.
“Who are you looking for?”
“We are looking for Lieutenant Wu Danyu to deliver an important letter. If you refuse to let us in, we will return tonight and report that Xiuli headquarters rejected the envoy of the Prince of Yanbei. You know what that means.”
The gatekeeper and the large military man exchanged glances, trying to decide whether to let the two pass. Suddenly, the large man said, “Your identification, please.”
“Here it is,” the royal escort said, handing over a piece of jade—marked with the black eagle, the symbol of the Prince of Yanbei. They allowed the two to pass without suspecting that the man behind the royal escort, who looked like a poor peasant, was someone of importance.
Ge Qi, observing from the watchtower, reacted in disbelief. “Why did they let them through? Go find out!”
One of his uniformed soldiers rushed toward the gatekeeper, who repeated the command. “Lieutenant Ge Qi wants to know why you let them pass.”
“They showed us this,” the guard said, holding up the jade piece.
The soldier examined the jade and understood. However, he questioned further. “If they are from the Prince’s envoy, shouldn’t they be dressed more appropriately and accompanied by the Prince of Yanbei’s cavalry?”
The three military men exchanged uneasy looks. Realizing the situation was unusual, they hurried to the command center to see Wu Danyu, who was on duty.
Meanwhile, the soldier returned to Ge Qi, who was in his quarters. Actively supervising the guards at the watchtower, Ge Qi said, “Sir, they claim to be the Prince of Yanbei’s envoy, as they carry the black eagle jade. But given their poor attire, we’re not so sure anymore.”
Ge Qi, frustrated, felt a sharp pain in his back.
“Sir, do you need help? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, you fool. You’re both smart and stupid at the same time. You deserve a promotion, but after a minute, I’ll make sure you get demoted. Now, go find them!”
Without hesitation, the soldier went on foot to track down the suspected intruders.
Yan Xun and his royal escort had only a few minutes before the camp fully realized their presence as intruders. Hiding, Yan Xun shook his head, smirking in disbelief at what he was doing just to maintain a peaceful heart.
Would there really be peace after all this? Or would chaos follow? He wondered if he was ready to lose rather than win.
If He Xiao learned that he took his woman tonight, Yan Xun would know if He Xiao had only been using her to press more concerns about Xiuli—oversights Yan Xun had intentionally left. But if He Xiao truly loved the woman, Yan Xun knew he’d be in trouble, perhaps even accused of stealing another man’s lover.
One rule guided him: He must not get caught snatching the woman from under everyone’s noses. If he did, he would have to use his royal authority to make them obey.
Yan Xun said to himself, “Whatever happens, I must win tonight! I don’t owe anyone an explanation!” He dismissed his thoughts and moved forward.
Chu Qiao was reading her chronicles, trying to reconnect with the mortal realm and distance herself from the underworld. Her powers had grown stronger day by day.
After searching endlessly through the thousand deserts and sand dunes, she suddenly found herself in the world of mortals. Yet, her return brought no clarity—her memories were gone. Patiently, Viper helped her, giving her the chronicles of Mimi Gongzhu, which Chu Qiao had drawn to remind herself of the events from the icy lake to the present.
The chronicles contained no written words, only drawings and symbols that helped Chu Qiao recall her past. Viper had meticulously recorded the moments between earth and the underworld so that when Mimi Gongzhu’s consciousness returned, she could easily pick up where she left off in the mortal realm.
Chu Qiao stood and walked to the door. Viper followed, but Chu Qiao stopped her. “I need some time alone,” she said. Viper understood and respected her desire for solitude.
“If you need help, just call me,” Viper said as Chu Qiao slipped out of sight.
As she walked outside the VIP General Quarters, Chu Qiao noticed a shadow. Her keen senses told her that this was a familiar presence. She watched closely as another shadow passed. Although unarmed, Chu Qiao didn’t feel threatened. Instead, she felt playful, like a child. She picked up a stone and transformed her bracelet into a slingshot.
The shadow reappeared, and Chu Qiao took aim. With a swift shot, the stone hit the royal escort on the head, knocking him down.
Yan Xun, surprised but not alarmed, pulled his unconscious bodyguard out of sight. He smiled to himself. “This woman is skilled,” he thought. “She’s not He Xiao’s type. He Xiao wouldn’t fall for a woman who knows how to use little killer weapons like this.”
Yan Xun decided to play a game of hide-and-seek with her. When he sensed that she was following him, he threw three small balls on the ground. Smoke erupted, and as Chu Qiao became dizzy from the fumes, Yan Xun triggered a mechanism, sending a rope flying to a nearby tree. He swung toward Chu Qiao and, in one smooth motion, snatched her from the ground as she began to collapse.
As Yan Xun looked into her half-closed eyes, her indigo scarf revealed only a mysterious face beneath, and her simple Hanfu dress floated in the air. With a smirk, Yan Xun said, “I know I cheated, but it was the only way I could win tonight against such a hauntingly beautiful girl. I won’t apologize.”
Chu Qiao, feeling light-headed and weakened by the smoke, whispered softly, “You will pay for this…”
Yan Xun laughed out loud and said, “Sure, you can charge me a high price, and you’re lucky to have found someone who can surely pay you back.”
Chu Qiao, still dizzy, drifted back to sleep in his arms as Yan Xun calculated the distance. He landed smoothly on his horse, with her, a sleeping beauty, in his arms.
Tempted to cut short the thrill, Yan Xun reached to remove the woman’s scarf when, suddenly, another woman appeared and shouted, “No!”
Yan Xun quickly realized someone was chasing them, though he couldn’t see who it was. He called out, “Show yourself, if you dare!”
Viper slowly emerged from the shadows of the tall forest trees, stepping sideways from darkness into light. Yan Xun was right—it was the fierce whip girl.
Viper looked ferocious, her eyes and lips full of fury. Dressed in furry boots and a fitted outfit covered in shackles, with a glowing whip in hand, she resembled a hungry wolf ready to tear its prey apart.
Yan Xun swallowed nervously, unprepared for this confrontation. His escort, sensing the tension, stepped out from the shadows and drew his sword toward Viper. Yan Xun smiled and said to his guard, “You know what to do!”
With that, Yan Xun tapped his horse, Blast, and they rode off with the sleeping beauty still in his arms.
The rest of Yan Xun’s four royal escorts arrived but found no trace of him or his horse. Viper encountered them in the woods and demanded, “If you tell me where your boss is, you might live to see tomorrow with your heads still attached to your necks.” She lashed her whip at them three times.
The four escorts, overwhelmed by the pain, surrendered and said in unison, “We swear, we don’t know where our boss is. We were waiting for him, and then you appeared.”
Sensing their honesty, Viper dragged another man from the darkness and threw him toward the four escorts. “You will help me find my Mimi Gongzhu, or I will send your souls to the underworld.”
The five escorts laughed mockingly and said, “Really? Is the underworld still in operation?”
Viper laughed with them but then quickly turned serious, her face fierce. “Do you want me to show you?”
At that moment, a cold wind blew, hinting at an impending storm. Viper’s anger flared, her eyes glowing a deep, bloody red. She said, “My powers are uncontrollable at night. Now, what was it you said earlier?”
“We didn’t say anything,” one of the escorts replied quickly, trying to save their lives. “We were just amazed by you.”
“Good. Do we have a deal then? Help me find Mimi Gongzhu, and I’ll let you live another day.”
“We agree, we agree!” they replied in unison. Viper hypnotized them and used the shackles around her neck to bind their hands and necks together.
A few hours later, Ge Qi and Wu Danyu arrived at the forest, their way illuminated by the torches of nearly half the Xiuli army. They found Viper, cloaked in a black hood that concealed her face. No one dared look directly at her, except for the five escorts, who remained silent, their earlier fierceness subdued by her powers.
Viper, still angry over losing track of Chu Qiao, suddenly remembered He Xiao. Ge Qi approached and asked what had happened.
Clearly upset, Viper snapped, “That’s exactly what I was going to ask you. What happened?”
Ge Qi replied, “We chased the intruders, but they left the camp.”
Wu Danyu approached and asked, “Who are you? Are you the whipping girl?”
Viper raised her hand to strike Wu Danyu, but Ge Qi quickly intervened. “My apologies for not properly introducing her. Lieutenant Wu Danyu, this is Viper, a trusted ally of the Xiuli army.”
“Nice to meet you, Viper,” said Wu Danyu. But Viper ignored him entirely, turning to Ge Qi. “Call He Xiao. I need to talk to him and hold him accountable for what happened. These five escorts won’t reveal who the man was that took Mimi Gongzhu.”
Ge Qi, stunned by what he heard, asked, “What? Are you referring to General Chu?”
“Yes!” Viper snapped, her voice harsh. She wanted to strike Ge Qi but held back, knowing he was still recovering from his wounds.
Ge Qi asked in disbelief, “General Chu is gone again? She just arrived, and now she’s gone? Was it the intruders who took her?”
“Shut your mouth! If you’re only going to ask more questions instead of finding answers, then stay quiet!” Viper stormed off, with the five royal escorts trailing behind her like a cavalry of her own.
“My apologies,” Ge Qi whispered to himself, feeling sharp and dull at the same time. “I’ve already sent word to He Xiao, and I expect him to arrive at Xiuli Mountain tomorrow.” Ge Qi fell silent, deep in thought about General Chu, while the rest of the military followed him back to Xiuli headquarters.
The moon shone brightly, its light partially obscured by dark clouds. A cold wind blew, sending shivers through the soldiers. That night, all their questions were answered: General Chu was missing, taken by a mysterious figure—a handsome man in a black hood who had captured the beauty of Xiuli.
Chapter 36
The World and The Star
Today, the king of the sky did not attend the horizon. Dark clouds gathered, unlocked the vault of the heavens, and unleashed heavy rain for the entire morning. Yan Xun, not feeling tired, continued his journey with his sleeping beauty companion and two horses trailing behind him.
Yan Xun set up camp and built a small bonfire to warm his cold beauty in a cave while waiting for the rain to stop—but it didn’t.
Yan Xun, gazing at his beauty, saw that her face was still covered by an indigo scarf. He did not attempt to touch it or see who lay beneath those gentle, beautiful, sleeping eyes.
He had promised himself to wait for the moment when she would open her eyes and find everything, including herself, in order.
Yan Xun, though excited and on top of the clouds that sent the rain, maintained his self-control—one of his most valued assets. He was, after all, a gentleman.
Except for when it came to Chu Qiao. He often experienced erratic behavior when he wanted to see her. He would have to steal some time and employ stratagems around Merlin with Feng Mian to reach the Yuwen Household.
He would then pass the usual interrogation at the Red Hills courtyard before arriving at his ultimate destination—the Green Hills courtyard.
The dangers and killing machines scattered around the Yuwen grounds didn’t bother him.
When he was young and carefree, Yan Xun never thought twice about visiting her. And now, it seemed he was reverting to his old self, sunny and just happy.
Yan Xun tried to meditate inside the cave while waiting for the beauty to wake up—but she didn’t. He thought to himself, “Did those three balls affect her too much? She hasn’t woken up since this morning. I’m beginning to worry if she’ll wake up at all. This is not what I expected.”
He straightened his posture, assumed a Zen position, and tried to meditate again to ease his tired mind. He hadn’t slept and wouldn’t allow himself to.
He feared losing this hauntingly beautiful woman sleeping beside him.
After a while, Yan Xun could no longer fight his drowsiness. His heavy eyes finally closed, and he fell asleep beside her.
Heavy raindrops fell outside, while the world and the stars slept sweetly in the rocky beds of the mountain cave. A few hours later, Yan Xun awoke, thinking it was the best sleep he’d had since the frozen lake tragedy. He leaned to the side and felt lucky to see the woman beside him still sleeping peacefully. A twinge of anxiety hit him. He checked her palms and tried to count her pulse when, suddenly, the woman woke up. Her delicate hands quickly reversed the position of Yan Xun’s hands, and in the other hand, she held a cold dagger pressed to his neck. He hadn’t even noticed where she had hidden it on her fragile body.
Yan Xun was stunned but smiled and said, “I am your prisoner, and you are my warden.”
Chu Qiao heard his words but didn’t respond. Instead, she demanded, “Where am I, and why are we here?”
Yan Xun, with assertiveness, replied, “The first question: where. The second: why. Got it.”
In a hoarse voice, he continued, “Third: How can I speak when you won’t put down your weapon first?”
Chu Qiao pressed the cold dagger harder against his neck. The blade made a small cut, and dark red blood started to appear.
“Answer! Or I’ll kill you here and now. I won’t regret it.” Chu Qiao’s voice was sharp and as cold as her dagger.
Yan Xun, still calm, replied, “You’ve only managed to put a knife to my neck because I let you. But what if I—”
Before he could finish, Yan Xun quickly reversed Chu Qiao’s hand. A master of close combat, he swiftly disarmed her, tossing the dagger aside. He pressed his left hand to his neck to slow the bleeding, while Chu Qiao looked on in horror, her eyes fixed on his hand—half metal, half flesh, with jade-like skin.
Yan Xun, calm and self-assured, didn’t ask for help. He went to one of their saddlebags, retrieved a Celadon bottle, and applied pressure to the wound, which bled more freely. He wiped it with a white cloth before opening the bottle and applying a balm around the cut. Chu Qiao watched in silence.
Yan Xun didn’t even glance at her as he treated his shallow wound. When he finished, he looked at her and said, “Hey, don’t cry. I won’t die yet. We still have many moments to share.”
He smiled like a child, and Chu Qiao felt awkward yet oddly familiar with his behavior.
Hearing Yan Xun’s words, Chu Qiao shook her head and looked down. She was struggling with her thoughts. She felt she had seen those fingers before—the last one gave her an unpleasant feeling.
She knew her memories were unreliable. Perhaps this was connected to her past.
Yan Xun sensed the long silence and reassured her: “Look at this bottle. It’s the only one of its kind, the best herbal medicine for wounds, from the Far East.”
Yan Xun smiled at her and said, “Hey! I’ll be alright. Tomorrow, you can cut me again, and this bottle will do all the wonders.”
He spoke in this manner to ease her guilt, noticing how Chu Qiao’s eyes seemed on the verge of flooding with tears.
Chu Qiao wasn’t focused on the wound but on his last finger, which seemed strangely familiar. Yan Xun smiled at her, while her mind flashed through memories like a time-lapse, unable to pinpoint when or where they had met before.
Interrupting her thoughts, Yan Xun stared at her and said, “You can stare at me like that when I’m asleep. I’m even more handsome then. But when I’m awake, don’t you realize you’re with a gorgeous man?”
Chu Qiao remained silent, offering no reaction.
Yan Xun, trying to be spontaneous, added, “A penny for your thoughts?”
Still, she didn’t respond. Yan Xun didn’t understand what was going through her mind. Chu Qiao struggled to find words for this conversation, her lips sealed as she simply observed the man she vaguely remembered. She was certain he was the one who had carried her away from the smoke last night.
Yan Xun then asked, “I’m hungry. What about you? Aren’t you hungry?”
Chu Qiao didn’t answer, so he teased her: “Are you deaf? Mute? Or is it the effect of the smoke?”
She kept staring at him with that same trace of familiarity, unable to recall when she had met this man. Was it in her past? Or perhaps in her dreams? Trying to connect the dots felt impossible.
Yan Xun, turning into a chatty merchant trying to sell his charms, attempted to break the ice: “Okay, I know this is all new to you, and if you’re feeling awkward or stunned being in the company of the Prince of Yanbei, don’t worry. You don’t need to be afraid.”
He continued, “We’re on a journey, and no one from the Yan Palace followed us—unless that whipping girl followed you again. By the way, who is this whip girl who always follows you around?”
Yan Xun stole a glance at Chu Qiao, the kind of glance that would make most women swoon.
But Chu Qiao wasn’t affected, and Yan Xun began to doubt his charm, wondering if his good looks had no effect on this particular lady. Was she an alien? Not human? He chuckled at the thought and refocused on the beauty in front of him.
Chu Qiao, enduring these playful antics, finally spoke: “How can I answer your questions when you haven’t answered mine?”
Yan Xun, overjoyed to hear her voice again, squinted and parted his lips as if to kiss her—but he didn’t. Instead, he said, “That’s the point. I won’t answer your questions, but you’ll get your answers after this short time we’ve stolen to get to know each other better. As you may know, the Prince of Yanbei is betrothed to the Liang Princess and…”
His chatty moment was cut short, and suddenly, Yan Xun didn’t know what to say next.
He was rendered speechless when Chu Qiao began to remove her indigo scarf.
Long silence followed, and Yan Xun, pale as a rock, froze in place.
… …
Time seemed to stop as the Star shone in the dark skies.
The world shifted, lost in the expanse of nowhere, as if frozen in time. He was convinced he was seeing a ghost.
His sturdy knees buckled, and he felt powerless. His mind froze, his voice failed him, and his body was paralyzed.
Mesmerized by the pure beauty before him, Yan Xun’s knees hit the rocky ground as he pushed himself backward, out of shock.
This moment of beautiful agony—it was like a dream. Or was it real?
No answers came. Everything remained frozen in time.
Yan Xun’s eyes burned with fury. He grabbed the cold dagger he had thrown earlier and, in a moment of surrender, shouted to Chu Qiao, “You can kill me here—that’s an order!”
The heavy rain continued to pour from the vault of the heavens. Between the world and the star, there was only silence, and neither wanted to make the first move.
… …
Suddenly, Chu Qiao, confused by the situation, passed out. Yan Xun quickly caught her as she collapsed like a thin sheet of paper. She no longer had the strength to comprehend where she was or what was happening. Who was this Prince of Yanbei who had taken her from Xiuli camp?
She had just been beginning a life she hoped would lead to success. But now? She found herself spending time with someone she wasn’t sure she should—or shouldn’t—be with.
Yan Xun didn’t want to complicate things. He was just starting to move forward with his life, leaving behind the chapter of the frozen lake. This moment felt both fateful and ill-fated. It was the price he paid for seeking peace after all these years spent in anguish by the frozen lake—years in which he cried and waited for closure.
Yan Xun had once said to Mr. Wu, “If I’m not meant to know what happened in the past, and I can’t go back to change it, whatever it was, if I see her again, I won’t let her go like what happened at the icy lake. I will change the course of the present time.”
That moment had arrived. But experiencing it was different from what he imagined. It seemed Yan Xun had waited his whole life for this moment—to truly see A’Chu with his own eyes and touch her.
He had to convince himself she was alive. If A’Chu were to kill him now, it would be the only way to prove she wasn’t a figment of his imagination.
There had never been closure from the frozen lake. This was a continuation of that moment, when A’Chu and Yuwen Yue had left him behind. He had been angry with Chu Qiao for drawing such a clear line about who she chose. From his memory, she chose to die with Yuwen Yue in the lake.
Yan Xun had felt like a dead man walking, living like a ghost in the years that followed. The truth was, Yan Xun had died more times than he had lived.
But now, those moments seemed to fade with time. Yan Xun had to face the woman in front of him, who appeared to lose strength every time she looked at him.
He gazed at her angelic face and hugged her tightly, whispering, “I won’t let go of you. Not even a single strand of your hair will fall to the ground. This is my promise.”
Tears welled in Yan Xun’s eyes as he spoke in a soft, gentle tone—full of both joy and misery, emotions only he could fully understand.
The sound of tiny water droplets echoed through the cave as the heavy rain finally stopped. The sky cleared, and the moonlight shone brightly, like a painted canvas, while the frozen scene before them seemed to take them back in time.
Yan Xun busied himself by cooking some food for A’Chu while she slept. He smiled as he watched her peaceful face. He didn’t eat anything himself, choosing instead to sit by the bonfire, contemplating his next steps.
He was overjoyed but didn’t quite know how to feel. Should he focus on himself first, or should he believe in the woman in front of him? For now, he thought of He Xiao and the truth that had been revealed—He Xiao had been loyal to him all along. This woman was not He Xiao’s, and never would be. Perhaps that’s what He Xiao’s letter had been about—to inform Yan Xun that he had found A’Chu and that she was alive.
Yan Xun had been right all these years. Since no body was ever found, he had held on to the hope that one day, he would find A’Chu.
Suddenly, Chu Qiao slowly opened her eyes and felt the warmth inside the cave. Yan Xun approached her and looked directly into her eyes. She didn’t hesitate to meet his gaze.
Yan Xun spoke first. “Are you feeling better? I’ve also lit some tea candles to help ease your senses.”
Chu Qiao leaned forward slightly, looking around. The tea candles, along with the bonfire, filled the cave with warmth.
In what was perhaps the most romantic spot she had ever seen, surrounded by the gentle glow of candlelight and the sweet aroma in the air, she quietly uttered, “This smells nice.”
Yan Xun, still gazing at her, said, “We’re in a cave. It’s been raining all morning and afternoon, and now it’s night. We should stay here until dawn. I’ve prepared a meal for both of us.”
Chu Qiao remained silent, simply observing him.
Yan Xun broke the silence with his husky voice. “A’Chu, do you know how happy I am today?”
With growing excitement, he added, “Do you know how long I’ve counted the moments, waiting for you to wake up?”
Yan Xun wanted to keep talking, but he sensed that she wasn’t responding. A’Chu seemed disconnected, as if something was wrong with her.
He asked again, “A’Chu, do you know who you’re with right now?”
Chu Qiao listened quietly but didn’t respond.
Yan Xun rephrased the question, “Do you have any idea who this man is in front of you?”
He was testing her memory, hoping she could recall who he was. Her strange look worried him.
Finally, Chu Qiao spoke, addressing his earlier comment: “Earlier, you didn’t recognize me. But when you said you were about to marry the Liang Princess, and I removed my scarf, you stopped talking.”
She added, in a polite yet assertive tone, “You asked me to kill you.”
Yan Xun was surprised by her sharp memory. She had remembered every second of what had happened earlier. He admitted, “A’Chu, at first, I didn’t realize it was you. But something deep down told me it might be you.”
He stood up, took a few steps closer to her, and continued, “I don’t want people to see me as a crazy dragon, exposing my weakness.”
Sighing, Yan Xun added, “You have to understand, I am the last royal heir of Yanbei. I never wanted that title to come between us, but after the frozen lake tragedy, it became a symbol of power for the people of Yanbei and a rallying force for the Yan army.”
Chu Qiao responded, “You call me A’Chu?”
Yan Xun, feeling a glimmer of hope at her response, smiled softly. “Yes, I call you A’Chu.”
“You revealed that name to me. It was the happiest moment of my life, even in the midst of all the tragedy.”
Yan Xun paused, then asked, “Do you remember the hole in the wall? You gave me your name, and no one else knew it but me.”
Chu Qiao, still unable to fully remember, shifted the topic and asked, “Are you getting married in a few days?”
Yan Xun turned around, moved closer, and sat down in front of her. Looking into her eyes, he replied with irritation in his voice, “Did you listen carefully? I’m not marrying in a few days, but in a few months.”
He watched her closely, searching her eyes for any sign of emotion in response to his words.
But all he found were the same pure eyes he had once protected and loved in their younger years.
Silence hung between them, the warm air filling the space as the fire crackled. Yan Xun broke the quiet again.
With all his heart, he asked, “If I were to marry someone else, would you be happy?”
The question lingered in the air, heavy with meaning. Yan Xun’s handsome face was hard to resist as he awaited her answer. But Chu Qiao broke eye contact, unable to respond.
She couldn’t give him an answer, though she sensed that her words would shape both their futures.
Yan Xun understood her silence. He lowered his gaze as well.
Neither of them knew what to say next. They simply sat there in silence, listening to the sound of the fire as it burned, while their unspoken feelings hung in the air, unresolved.
Chu Qiao diverted her attention to the meal that the Prince had prepared for their dinner. She said, “What a delicious meal, I’m hungry.” Chu Qiao ate heartily, and Yan Xun followed suit, though he remained quiet, not saying a word.
Chu Qiao could sense the silence hanging in the air, wondering if it was because she hadn’t answered his million-dollar question. She thought it best for him to consider whether it was even appropriate to ask her such a question, especially since, to her, they had only just met. But to Yan Xun, it felt as if they had escaped the world together, as if they had once been lovers, now oppressed by outside forces, and were on the brink of deciding their future tonight.
Chu Qiao chose to bury those thoughts in silence, hoping Yan Xun would never bring them up again. She thought to herself, “If he marries, then he marries.” It wasn’t for her to get in his way. A prince is a prince, and his future wasn’t dependent on her answers.
After their meal, Chu Qiao cleaned up and moved a little farther away from Yan Xun to sleep. Yan Xun didn’t object. He too was keeping himself in control, determined not to ruin his plans for their journey.
That fateful night, they slept together under the same sky, but their status remained unclear—were they strangers, enemies, friends, or something more? Neither could tell.
Yan Xun closed his eyes first, while Chu Qiao stayed awake for a while, letting him fall asleep before drifting off herself.
The next morning, Yan Xun woke up first, already dressed in his white Hanfu with a purple robe adorned with intricate embroidery along the hem. He looked undeniably handsome and hard to resist. Yan Xun had prepared everything Chu Qiao would need to dress, including a matching pair of metal masquerade masks for both of them.
Last night, Yan Xun’s heart had guided him, but this morning, his mind was back in control. He had decided to continue with his plans, regardless of last night’s revelations.
When Chu Qiao woke up, she first looked around the cave, searching for Yan Xun. Beside her were delicate Calla Lilies, symbolizing humility, devotion, youth, and rebirth, along with lilies of the valley, which are given on a second wedding anniversary. Lilies, often associated with funerals, also symbolized the soul’s restored innocence after death.
For Yan Xun, these flowers represented what should have been their second wedding anniversary, had Chu Qiao survived the frozen lake tragedy. But fate had taken a different path, and she had chosen a path of thorns.
Beside the flowers, Yan Xun had laid out a princess’s gown, complete with a gold box on top as a finishing touch. Chu Qiao had no choice but to accept the gift, silently following the Prince of Yanbei’s actions, reading between the lines of what was left unsaid.
Yan Xun was outside, gazing at the mountains, waiting. He sensed her presence as she approached, and when he turned, he was stunned by the sight before him.
A’Chu was dressed in the princess gown and a purple robe, matching his own. The only thing that remained was her indigo scarf, which she kept over her face, but even that somehow matched their coordinated attire, making them appear as a couple from their clothing alone.
Yan Xun, with his hands clasped behind his back, silently walked toward her, his divine princess, whose gown fluttered in the breeze—a breathtaking sight.
He stopped in front of her, the moment almost too beautiful to bear. Her face was hidden except for her eyes, but even that was enough to stir Yan Xun’s heart. He slowly removed her indigo scarf and placed it gently in her hand. Their eyes locked, speaking volumes without a word exchanged.
Then, Yan Xun produced a metal masquerade mask and gently placed it over her delicate face. As he fastened the mask, the Prince of Yanbei could feel the electricity between them. Her scent enveloped him, but he forced himself to clear his thoughts, controlling his desires as he tightened the lock on the mask. Chu Qiao, feeling both familiarity and tension, calmed herself, allowing Yan Xun to finish adjusting the mask at the back of her head.
When he was done, Yan Xun stepped back to look at her and met her gaze.
His eyes squinted slightly, and in their sparkle, he conveyed everything he felt at that moment.
Deep down, he knew Chu Qiao didn’t want him to marry soon, even if she wasn’t saying it out loud.
Yan Xun had grown in ways he hadn’t expected. This was not like the first time he was forced to marry Princess Chuner, when A’Chu, the little fox, had said nothing but had simply advised him to be careful in his next steps. Back then, Yan Xun hadn’t fully understood her words—until now.
Yan Xun knew what Chu Qiao felt for him, even though neither of them had ever spoken it out loud.
He had always believed their feelings were mutual. Yet Yan Xun had never learned how to express those feelings in a way Chu Qiao could understand.
At the time, his heart had been consumed by revenge and anger, leaving no room to explore his true desires—not until now.
Today, as Yan Xun looked at her, she was like a wild red flower. If only the world of Yanbei were simpler, he could declare her his life partner without hesitation.
But would it have been better if he had thought about this earlier? Back at the frozen lake, if he had thought about her more and less about himself? Had he not been so stubborn and selfish?
Perhaps he wouldn’t have lost his best friend Yuwen Yue.
Instead of dragging Yuwen Yue into a death squad, he might have invited him to Yanbei’s wedding of the year.
Chapter 37
Xiu Xiu Mountains
The sun hides and then reappears from behind the passing clouds. It’s the perfect day to ride Yanbei’s mighty horses across its beautiful sloping hills, rich grasslands, and flower fields glittering in the sunlight. It feels like the best of earth and the bliss of the world.
Two people arrived at the matchless, incomparable view, like a dream, like a promise forgotten in time and now fulfilled. They stood at the feet of the dainty woman and handsome man, riding their two prime, beautiful horses.
“Heee!”
Yan Xun looked at Chu Qiao riding beside him, his eyes so handsome, squinting slightly. This was the moment to tell her: “A’Chu, if you’ve forgotten everything, let me remind you of what we once were.”
Chu Qiao, catching the scent of the grass and captivated by the mountain hills and green valleys, threw a sparkling glance at Yan Xun and replied: “Remind me of everything we once were?”
Her voice was soft, wondering what exactly Yan Xun meant by “everything.” She had to admit, the man beside her was hard to resist. Those eyes, those smiles, those sweet little gestures were already cracking her shell.
Yan Xun hushed softly and said, “Yes.”
Chu Qiao heard his voice, and though she couldn’t understand why, she found herself beginning to like it.
With every passing moment, being with this prince felt better. She felt special. Even though they had only met yesterday, she was to be married in a few months. Yet, this man treated her as though they were a couple, even though they were not.
Chu Qiao answered swiftly: “Like this?”
Yan Xun frequently flashed a smile at her, his eyes unable to resist looking at her lovely face. He was clearly flirting, and Chu Qiao seemed to receive it innocently.
Yan Xun continued in a gentle tone: “Yes, I promised you this…”
Chu Qiao teased: “Why can’t I remember?”
She looked at the breathtaking view, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.
Yan Xun, in the same playful manner, replied: “Maybe someone made you forget?”
Holding his breath, he watched Chu Qiao as she exhaled, her side profile catching the sunlight. Her lips were tempting, and Yan Xun nearly leaned in for a kiss. But instead, he sighed, inhaled deeply, and shook his head with a smile.
Noticing the gesture, Chu Qiao asked: “Why are you shaking your head and smiling? Is that proper behavior?”
Yan Xun replied: “Nothing…”
Chu Qiao pressed: “Really?”
“I just missed you.” Yan Xun couldn’t hide it anymore. He flashed a flirty smile, tapped his horse, and rode down the sloping, grassy hill.
Left at the top of the hill, Chu Qiao whispered to herself: “What just happened?”
Waving her hands, she shouted to the runaway prince: “Hey! Are you just going to leave me here? What did I do?”
Yan Xun shouted back, his voice happy: “Come over! We’ve got more sightseeing to do.”
Still clueless about Chu Qiao’s forgotten memories, Yan Xun pretended as though she had forgotten everything, determined to remind her of what they once were.
Those sweet moments and unspoken emotions—those cold nights they slept together, just holding hands, or embracing when one was sick. Waiting for each other late into the night before going to sleep. Serving each other food first. Sometimes playfully feeding one another, running through fields, learning and practicing martial arts together.
Yan Xun had trained her in combat, and during close encounters, they nearly kissed. But he always brushed it off, leaving Chu Qiao blushing, though she hid her feelings well. They had shared so much together that it didn’t seem fair for Chu Qiao to forget it all, returning today as if they were strangers.
For Yan Xun, those times held the potential to blossom from solid friendship into a budding love, ending with her at his marriage bed.
Yet, Yan Xun hadn’t wanted that at first. Perhaps because he felt sure that while Chu Qiao was so close to him, they had already shared more than anyone else ever could. The only thing missing was for him to propose and make her his for a lifetime.
As Yan Xun enjoyed his time with Chu Qiao, he became overconfident, believing their shared memories and his presence alone would surpass those of his best friend, Yuwen Yue.
He seized the opportunity when Chu Qiao, consumed by her anger toward the Yuwen household, let it fester in her heart.
Yan Xun never imagined that Chu Qiao, after their strong friendship, could still be vulnerable.
But when the truth finally surfaced and settled like an icy lake, he remembered her words: “If Yuwen Yue dies in Yanbei, I will never forgive you.”
After riding for a few hours, Yan Xun finally reached a small nearby community. He dismounted and handed his horse to a young boy before returning to Chu Qiao, who was riding her horse in circles.
“Are we going to stay here for a while?” she asked.
Yan Xun smiled, opened his palm, and said: “Come down here, A’Chu. Trust me, just like before.”
Chu Qiao heard that voice again, and it gave her a sense of relief. She placed her hand in his open palm, and Yan Xun held it warmly. Her hands were cold, and the touch sent an electric charge through his body.
Yan Xun swallowed and Chu Qiao asked, “Is something wrong?”
He smiled calmly and replied, “Nothing at all, my little fox.”
Chu Qiao laughed and mocked him, “Little fox? Did you just call me a little fox?”
Yan Xun smiled slightly and said, “Yes, you are my little fox. You deceive me with your clever moves, but I always make sure I win in the end.”
“You even said, ‘If I can beat you, I can outsmart anyone else.'”
Chu Qiao looked up and said, “God of memories, help me out here.”
Yan Xun laughed heartily and said, “As we speak, the God of memories has already replied and told you this: ‘The man in front of you is your first love.'”
Annoyed, Chu Qiao’s ears felt like they were going to burst. She slapped Yan Xun on the nape.
Despite her frustration, Chu Qiao began to question, “Is it really him?” she thought to herself.
Yan Xun was about to continue teasing her, as if they were children, when a rugged old woman approached and greeted the Prince of Yanbei. “Ahem, ahem, Your Grace, you’ve arrived. How can we serve Your Highness?”
Just then, the clouds darkened, signaling an impending thunderstorm, and raindrops began to fall.
Without warning, Yan Xun pulled Chu Qiao to his side, hugging her tightly, trying to shield her from the rain. But it was too late—the raindrops turned into a downpour, soaking them both. Their purple robes were drenched by the heavy rain.
Chu Qiao, feeling the intensity of the moment, pushed Yan Xun away and shot him a disapproving look.
Yan Xun, unrelenting, teased her with a flirty smile and said to the old woman, “I’ll have the usual.”
Chu Qiao’s ears perked up in surprise. “I’ll have the usual? What’s this?” she exclaimed.
The old woman, understanding her confusion, explained that the prince usually came alone. Today, however, he had brought someone with him. They had never imagined it would be a young woman, as lovely as the heavens and as breathtaking as the view of the grasslands. But they couldn’t see her face, which was hidden behind a full metal mask.
Yan Xun, somewhat anxious but enjoying the moment, said, “Why? Are you going to be jealous if you find out you’re not the only one I’ve brought here?”
Chu Qiao couldn’t handle his teasing anymore and shot him a sharp look. Yan Xun secretly felt victorious; he knew her well and could tell when she was upset with him.
The Prince of Yanbei, acting like a child, continued playing in the rain, soaking his expensive clothes. He called out, “Old woman, tell her the truth!”
The old woman turned to Chu Qiao and spoke gently. “Your Grace, you are the first person the prince has ever brought here. We’ve never seen him with anyone else before. But you… you and Your Grace seem happy, which is something we haven’t seen since…”
She trailed off, glancing at the prince, who was playing joyfully in the rain, before continuing, “Your Grace has never brought anyone else here until now.”
Chu Qiao couldn’t help but feel a sense of entitlement after hearing the old woman’s words. Her heart suddenly felt secretly overjoyed.
She asked herself, “Is this really affecting me? Why do I feel this sudden joy, knowing no one else has come to this paradise with the Prince of Yanbei except me?”
The old woman spoke again, “I will prepare a place for you to stay. Please, ask Your Highness to stop playing in the rain and come inside.”
With that, the old woman left them alone.
From a distance, Chu Qiao watched Yan Xun, soaked in his wet clothes, smiling and playing like a child. She couldn’t help but laugh.
She called out to him: “Yan Xun!”
Long and loud… Chu Qiao suddenly surprised herself by calling the Prince of Yanbei by his name.
Yan Xun, finally catching her attention, transformed from a playful boy into a serious, handsome man as he walked slowly toward where she stood.
Chu Qiao, feeling the weight of every step he took, felt her heart racing.
She looked at him, unafraid, when suddenly a flash of lightning struck the sky, but neither of them shifted their gaze.
From a grassy field to a rainy afternoon and a flash of lightning, Chu Qiao and Yan Xun stood close, neither blinking. Yan Xun softly asked, “Little fox, what did you call me?”
Chu Qiao, feeling soaked in her clothes and her feet sticking to the ground, stammered, “I… I…”
Yan Xun, drenched from head to toe, stared at her with unblinking eyes, the intensity of his gaze hard to resist.
As his eyes seemed to signal an intent to kiss her in the rain, Chu Qiao snapped back to reality and, grasping for an excuse, ruined the moment. “Aw… aw… aw… I think I can’t move my feet.”
“Spoiler!” Yan Xun teased, snapping back to the present moment, only to realize the situation was more serious.
Yan Xun’s face turned from playful to anxious. “What? Your feet—take my hand, quick!” he ordered.
“Help!” Chu Qiao cried desperately.
Without hesitation, Yan Xun drew his sword, nailed it into the ground, and used all his strength to pull Chu Qiao out of the quicksand. After a few tense minutes, he managed to free her completely.
Exhausted, Yan Xun collapsed onto the ground beside his sword.
Chu Qiao, equally tired, lay down next to him, her hands sore and swollen from the struggle. She was on the verge of laughing and crying at the same time.
Yan Xun, breathing heavily and letting out tired but amused noises, still managed to say, “That was close! But here we are… what a rush!” He gasped for air between words.
Chu Qiao, also catching her breath, finally let out the laughter she had been holding back. “Oh, I thought I saw lightning flash, and maybe a clap of thunder should add to the drama! And what if you had let go of me?!”
“Oh, that would never happen,” Yan Xun replied playfully. “Let the thunder come—it would only make the moment perfect.”
In a happy tone, he added, “Let the thunder and the world be one with the stars.”
“But if a star fell, like what happened on the frozen lake, do you know who would be the first to die?”
Yan Xun paused, his poetic nature surfacing as he dropped something that tugged at Chu Qiao’s heart.
“It’s the world.”
His voice, now hushed, was filled with sadness and misery as he revealed his feelings.
Chu Qiao, staring at the black sky, asked, devoid of emotion, “A star fell into the icy lake? Why?”
Yan Xun answered casually, as if it were a trivial conversation, “She fell because she no longer wanted to live with the world and chose to go with the master of ice.”
A heavy silence followed.
A soft rumble of thunder echoed through the air, but the two remained lying on their backs, staring at the dark sky. Yan Xun waited for her to respond, but none came—only the alternating sounds of thunder and lightning resounded across the open field.
Chu Qiao didn’t answer. Instead, she kept the childlike stories in her mind. She closed her eyes when suddenly a flash of memory surfaced.
A woman was screaming at the top of her lungs, “Yuwen Yue!” Loud and clear, she jumped into a lake, swimming as fast as she could until she reached the man. She saw his face… that face. Chu Qiao focused on it as she drew closer to kiss his forehead. The man was gravely injured, but with all his remaining strength, he pushed her away. She looked at him as he mouthed silent words. She thought she heard him say “Live well” three times before he was swallowed by the depths of the lake.
The rain had slowed to a light drizzle when Yan Xun moved to wake Chu Qiao. She seemed to have fallen asleep, but as she opened her eyes, all of Yan Xun’s worries disappeared.
“Come on, let’s head to the cabin,” he said softly.
They both stood, walking side by side. Yan Xun held her close, their bodies shaking, drenched and cold, their lips and skin pale from the chill.
Darkness descended over the mountain hills, and the grasslands, now glistening from the rain, seemed to welcome the moonlight. The rain stopped, making way for the stars, which twinkled in the serene landscape of Yanbei. It was an unspeakable moment of peace and beauty.
Earlier, everything had moved so fast. Now, the Prince of Yanbei walked alone outside his cabin, gazing at the light still flickering in Chu Qiao’s cabin. He had chosen not to share a cabin with her, even though the thought of doing so lingered.
In this quiet, precious moment, he distanced himself from his duties and the weight of his responsibilities to Yanbei and its people, all for the sake of his heart’s desire. Yet, he chose to remain apart from her, as in the past, when they had shared his room, his bed, and their roles as protectors of one another.
Aside from A’Chu, there was no one else who filled his heart. This alone made the Prince of Yanbei love her, though he kept himself in control, waiting for the right moment.
But is this the right time?
Yan Xun remembered the time when he was dying in the Imperial Garrison, when the last of his strength was slipping away.
Chu Qiao had given him bitter advice, urging him to hold on, to cling to the blade of revenge.
It had been the only way. There could be no other, for at that time, he had no hope. He couldn’t even recognize the honor of his Yan family name.
He had become a nobody—useless, dying, and soon to be forgotten, covered by the ashes of oblivion.
Yet, over and over again, he heard A’Chu’s voice saying, “Even if you live like a dog, live it!”
A’Chu’s advice became the lifeline Yan Xun clung to, pulling him through the darkest moments.
Even if it meant cutting off his last finger for her sake, even if it meant turning away from marriage and breaking a princess’s heart, executing his most trusted friend, and destroying his childhood companions—he would do it. Even if it meant luring Yuwen Yue, his sworn brother by blood, into a trap, using his feelings for Xing’er.
He showed no mercy when he ended Yuwen Yue’s life at the frozen lake. Was it all to secure Yan’s future with A’Chu?
These decisions made Yanbei rise from the ashes, more powerful than ever, but not Yan Xun’s heart. He couldn’t simply untangle the rope that bound him now.
Not when he had gained so much power and the trust of Yan’s citizens, not when he was on the verge of conquering Changan City—the very city where he had spent his childhood, a place that had stolen his youth away from Yanbei.
Yan Xun’s deep thoughts churned: “If I were to follow my heart, I could go to the cabin now and ask her to run away with me.”
He paused and thought again: “But if I follow my mind, I’ll turn my back on her during the day, make her suffer, and then call her to my side by night.”
Is this the fate he wants for A’Chu?
A’Chu, once his trusted military strategist, would be confined to the palace walls, tending to their children instead of shaping the future of Yanbei.
Why not? Yan Xun wondered, Is this why I came here tonight?
If she becomes his wife and the Queen of Yanbei, would that bring him the peace his heart longs for?
But what about the blood of Yan? His blade has not yet fully served justice for the slaughter of the Yan Royal family. What would he leave for his children and grandchildren if justice for his people remained unfulfilled during his reign as king?
Yan Xun knew that if he followed his heart, all his plans would fall apart. The Prince of Yanbei would embrace comfort, open himself to softness, and sink into the sweetness of love. What good could come from that?
What would he teach his children? Love, yes, but also the failure to seek justice?
Would he repeat the history of his Yan family?
Would he rather win A’Chu’s heart or be remembered in history as the King of Yanbei who avenged his family?
Which one was the better legacy? Which one would balance the scales of vengeance?
This was the third night he had spent with her, but it felt like an eternity. His leave from the throne granted him only seven days—seven days before he had to return to his duties or forsake the citizens of Yanbei. “I hope this moment never ends…” Yan Xun whispered to himself as he began to play the Yanbei warble flute, the melancholic melody drifting through the air, hoping it would reach distant ears.
Meanwhile, Chu Qiao lay in bed, trying to sleep. But her memories kept flashing back—visions of a girl with a bow and arrow, a sword called Poe Yue Jian, a frozen lake, and a man named Yuwen Yue. She also recalled the name Xing’er. “Who is Xing’er?” she asked herself. “Is she the star that Prince Yan Xun mentioned earlier?”
He calls me A’Chu, but who is Xing’er?
Chu Qiao tried to rest, but the familiar, haunting melody of the flute tugged at her heart. It was so sorrowful that she felt the urge to go outside and see who was playing. But she was too tired to move.
Suddenly, the sad melody stopped.
Why did it end? Chu Qiao wondered, struggling to stay awake. But exhaustion finally overtook her, and she drifted into a deep sleep.
Yan Xun, having finished playing the flute, walked a few steps to Chu Qiao’s cabin—just as he had done so many times in the Yanbei military camp. She didn’t seem to know, but the servants had noticed him walking and thinking deeply near General Chu’s quarters. Whenever they saw him, he would gesture to them to keep quiet, raising a finger to his lips.
The night was cold, the bright stars twinkling in the vast skies above the Xiu Xiu mountains—a paradise of grasslands, untouched and beautiful. The night was both serene and unforgettable.
Chapter 38
Throne of Ember
The Yanbei skies were clear, and the morning dew brought out the smell of fresh grass. Butterflies fluttered over the flowers, and wild horses ran freely.
The owner of the land stepped out of the cabin, raised his hands, and yawned. He saw his horse being fed by the servant boy.
He took a deep breath of the fresh air and glanced at the neighboring cabin, which looked quiet and empty.
Worried that he might be late, Yan Xun quickly checked himself in the mirror. “If she doesn’t like me, I must have lost my charm,” he thought.
He decided to check the other cabin, moving quietly towards it. As he peered through the window, someone suddenly poked him from behind.
Startled, he squinted his eyes and turned around.
“Are you looking for the star?” Chu Qiao asked, watching Yan Xun peek into her cabin. Yan Xun turned around to face her, startled. Chu Qiao squinted her eyes, waiting for an explanation.
Yan Xun straightened up, trying to maintain his princely posture. He cleared his throat and replied, “No, I thought I saw a spider crawl through the window, so I was just trying to see where it went.”
Chu Qiao creased her brow and said, “I know what you did last night, so don’t waste your effort trying to deceive me.” She then walked away.
Yan Xun followed behind her and asked, “What did I do last night?”
“Were you drunk? Ask yourself!” Chu Qiao continued walking in a sarcastic tone.
With a slight smirk, Yan Xun said, “Okay, I know.” Then, suddenly grabbing Chu Qiao’s arm, he added, “You cannot escape today; we have many moments to make.”
Chu Qiao narrowed her eyes and asked, “Like what?”
“Why should I tell you? You’ll see when we get there.” Yan Xun smiled at her, but Chu Qiao frowned, pushed his hand away, and turned back to face him.
“Hey, don’t ruin this royal trip. I have to stick to my schedule and report back to the throne later.”
Yan Xun smiled at her and then signaled the youngster to gather their horses.
“I thought I woke up early, but here’s the little fox, already up before the world.”
Still smiling, Yan Xun took the reins of his horse and approached Blast while Chu Qiao mounted hers.
Noticing that Chu Qiao wasn’t wearing her metal mask, Yan Xun said, “A’Chu, you should put on your mask. It’s too risky if anyone sees us together.”
Chu Qiao glanced at him and asked, “Why?”
“Is the Prince of Yanbei afraid of his fiancée and afraid she’ll kill you because you’re with someone else, not her?” she teased.
Yan Xun replied sternly, “Last I checked, my ring finger is still free of any loyalty to a woman. And, by the way, concubines don’t count.”
Chu Qiao smirked and asked, “So you haven’t given an engagement ring at all?”
Yan Xun quickly responded, “Is that really necessary?”
Chu Qiao laughed and said, “Poor fiancée. If I were her, you’d never get a chance!”
Yan Xun replied, “She’s not poor; she can buy her own if she really wants one. I’m not wasting Yanbei’s treasures on just an engagement ring. Besides, the wedding will be grand. Who needs an engagement ring when she’ll have a wedding ring? She gets it all: the Yanbei Prince, the kingdom, and more…”
“Here!” Chu Qiao tapped her horse and sped off, with Yan Xun quickly catching up and riding beside her.
Chu Qiao was well-prepared, dressed in tight-fitting riding clothes and an indigo scarf that covered her face, leaving only her almond-shaped eyes visible. Her black hood had a dark purple lining inside.
Yan Xun was similarly dressed in a black hooded outfit, reminiscent of Zorro, with a purple metal mask, a sword at his waist, and a striking presence on his magnificent horse.
“Yah! Yah! Yah!” he urged, as they rode together.
After hours of riding across Yanbei’s lush green landscape under the clear blue sky, they came upon a palace.
Gasping for air while still on her horse, Chu Qiao called out to Yan Xun, “A palace? Out here in this paradise? Wow!”
Proudly, Yan Xun pulled on his horse’s reins and turned around, with Chu Qiao following suit. He led his horse to the paddock, dismounted, and secured the reins. Chu Qiao, however, remained on her horse, gazing in awe at the majestic palace before her.
Yan Xun approached Chu Qiao and extended his hand. Without saying a word, his earnest gaze made her trust him, and she placed her hand in his.
Next to the palace, a beautiful waterfall cascaded beside an evergreen forest adorned with autumn colors. Chu Qiao was mesmerized by the breathtaking scenery as she walked. For Yan Xun, watching her was a heartwarming joy, realizing that his efforts and dreams had finally come to fruition.
As Chu Qiao remained entranced by the falls, oblivious to the passing time, Yan Xun turned to her, gazing into her sparkling eyes. Unable to resist, he leaned in to kiss her, but Chu Qiao, not in the mood, subtly turned her face away.
Sensing that the moment wasn’t right, Yan Xun turned his gaze to the beautiful falls, took a deep breath, and began speaking.
“Once upon a time, I met a girl on a bloody hunting field. Fierce and deadly, she conquered every battle. Just when I thought she had perished, she survived…
She didn’t realize that a prince, like a loyal dog, followed her, doing everything…
He gave his best to block all the arrows that threatened to take her breath away…
The prince did not let go until their servants carried her to a safe place…
A cold victor who won her in the game of generals…
He broke all the rules and snatched the hunting prize from the pack of foxes. Today…
Here she stands, still not understanding…”
Yan Xun clenched his fist, overwhelmed by memories of his past and the slaughter of his family. The pain silenced him.
Chu Qiao broke the silence, asking, “What am I supposed to understand?”
Turning to her with eyes brimming with tears, Yan Xun replied, “I asked you once before, and I’m asking again: Did you ever love me?”
Chu Qiao, utterly clueless, remained silent before saying, “I knew nothing about this.” With a heavy heart, she looked down.
Yan Xun, revealing his hidden emotions, said, “Then let me remind you of something. Once upon a time, you said…”
“I don’t know if what I feel for you is love or not. All I know is that I cared deeply for you. I couldn’t bear to see anyone hurt you. I embraced your dreams as my own, your home as mine. Your well-being, your safety, your triumphs and losses have been the most important things to me all these years. My greatest dream was to return to Yanbei with you, to see you safely back in your homeland and fulfill your desires.
I’ve lost my family, my memories, but you have been the most important person in my life. You are the meaning of my existence. But now, I’m uncertain if everything I’ve done was worth it.
Do you even know who you are?
Since you started your journey back to Yanbei, you’ve grown suspicious of Miss Yu, Mr. Wu, and me. You’ve become wary of everyone, enslaved by power, revenge, and hatred driven by selfish motives. I don’t blame you for killing Yuwen Yue; I only despise your deceitful actions. You should never have trampled on my loyalty and my feelings for you.”
Yan Xun stopped, unable to continue. The thought of Yuwen Yue and the pain it brought was too much for him to bear in front of her.
Chu Qiao closed her eyes slightly and said, “As you wish, I will go and find Yuwen Yue. This is my final warning: if Yuwen Yue dies in Yanbei, I will never forgive you.”
Chu Qiao began to cry, overwhelmed by memories she didn’t fully feel she owned. What started as a beautiful morning had turned into a dark afternoon, with thunderstorms threatening their peace. As tears streamed down their faces, a sudden rainstorm arrived without warning.
They stood there, drenched and emotionally exposed. One was haunted by the past, while the other recognized its beauty but felt disconnected from it.
As the rain poured, Yan Xun grasped her hands. With tears still in his eyes, his face suddenly hardened. In a surge of anger, he clenched his jaw and, with a bitter expression, pulled her away.
Chu Qiao was startled as her feet seemed to follow Yan Xun, landing them at the main entrance of the palace.
Outside, the weather continued its tumultuous display—rain, lightning, and thunder mimicking the previous day’s storm. Once childlike in their innocence, they now faced these emotions with a more mature perspective. Chu Qiao struggled to understand her feelings. She related to Yan Xun’s past and his “Star girl,” but she wondered if this was truly her role. Was she Xinger or his Star girl?
Yan Xun opened the palace door, revealing an interior devoid of servants. The entrance was flanked by two lion statues carved from rare limestone, their eyes adorned with precious stones and painted in a striking rose gold.
The floor was grand, featuring a thick red carpet with gold threads, adorned with two dragon emblems.
Inside the palace, Jin Bu (gold fabric) curtains adorned the walls, while tea candles hung from a square counter above. Torches burned continuously along the walls, providing a constant, flickering light.
The main hall featured a wide aisle leading to a set of six steps ascending to a stage. The stage, constructed from old brick, was crowned with a jade stone that sparkled in the center, showcasing a dark red sword.
Beyond the stage, an elevated slope with three wide steps led to a higher, sacred area shrouded in mystery. This area, known as the Throne of Ember, was filled with burning incense. Here, only the King’s foothold was visible, with the Ember Throne itself remaining unseen, hidden from view.
Chu Qiao and Yan Xun exchanged a meaningful glance, a silent conversation passing between them. With a nod from the Prince, she hurried down the aisle to the stage, where she found the Canhong Sword, its dark red blade glistening and well-preserved.
Yan Xun, meanwhile, walked slowly down the aisle, his presence regal yet haunting. Dressed in his black hooded suit, each step he took echoed through the hall, sending a shiver down Chu Qiao’s spine. His slow, deliberate movement made him seem like a dark king without a crown, a ruler with no heart, as droplets of rain continued to fall from his suit.
Chu Qiao, still drenched from the rain, paid no mind to her wet clothes. All eyes were on Yan Xun as he approached her.
When Yan Xun reached Chu Qiao, he paused momentarily. A sudden chill filled the air, but he remained stoic and distant, his face hidden beneath his black hood. Despite the tears on his face, he did not acknowledge Chu Qiao. He walked past her as if they were strangers, his face cold and detached.
He continued until he reached the Throne of Ember. As he sat upon it, the burning incense seemed to consume him, his figure fading into the smoke like ash. Only his foothold remained visible, marking his presence on the throne.
The Throne of Yanbei, a piece of heaven amidst the world, rises from the embers and burns with incense day and night. It symbolizes the eternal rule over the kingdom, rising from ashes to its enduring remnants.
The ruler of Yanbei is committed to seeking justice for the fallen and striving for peace across the land. His reign will persist, unyielding in its quest to uphold justice and harmony throughout the kingdom.
Chu Qiao stood frozen for a moment, feeling the overwhelming presence of Yan Xun. Understanding his majesty, she took the Canhong Sword and walked gracefully toward the Throne of Ember. With reverence, she raised the sword towards the throne and bowed deeply.
Yan Xun, his face streaked with tears, asked, “Is this truly what you wanted?”
Chu Qiao responded firmly, “Yes, Your Grace.”
Yan Xun, striving to maintain his composure, kept his head held high and did not look down.
His little eyes betrayed him in the dark, with sincere tears falling.
Whatever it is, it’s not for everyone to know.
Suddenly, for the first time, he broke the protocol of the Throne of Ember.
He descended and showed his face.
He gently lifted Chu Qiao’s face, carefully removing her hood and taking off her indigo scarf.
Yan Xun, filled with a newfound courage, wondered what it would be like to kiss her lips. He slowly leaned in, closing his eyes as he drew nearer, savoring her scent and the closeness of her lips. Tears still streaked his face as he braced himself for the kiss.
Chu Qiao remained calm and composed, still as a waterfall, and did not hesitate this time. She let Yan Xun experience what she felt.
With her eyes closed, she stayed cold and uninviting, her emotions hidden and her feelings distant.
Yearning for her in that moment, Yan Xun suddenly paused. He did not seal her lips with a kiss.
Instead, he slightly pulled back, taking a deep breath as he shifted away from Chu Qiao’s lips.
Realizing something within himself, he maintained his composure and chose not to proceed further.
Yan Xun momentarily lost himself in the sight of her delicate face—the only woman he had ever loved. Standing before the Throne of Ember, he understood the gravity of his actions. Any deviation from the throne’s protocols could lead to severe consequences—perhaps even death.
Regaining his senses, Yan Xun restored his majestic presence and lordly posture. He walked back to the Throne of Ember, and a heavy silence filled the room.
Chu Qiao opened her eyes, feeling abandoned and disoriented.
Tears streamed down her face as she took the Canhong Sword and her indigo scarf.
She draped the scarf over her face, stood up, and began to walk away from the throne.
Her eyes still welled with tears.
Yan Xun, sensing her slipping away, gathered his strength and emotions. He found the words and spoke to her:
“A’Chu, on this Throne of Ember sits the King of Yanbei. Once this moment passes, it will never return.
The next time you see me, whatever you feel inside… it will be just the face of the King, not a lover. Remember that.”
May Connect to Chapter 40: Buried in the Snow
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Chapter 39
Breach of Chasm
In a small town, at the heart of the marketplace, a fine young woman was setting up her trades and goods for the day’s business.
While others moved on, engaged, or married, the fine woman remained single and chose to be unnoticed by everyone.
An old lady was her only companion, and together they helped each other set up their goods.
They had known each other since they met one fateful night, and from that moment on, the old lady became her beacon, guiding her to live each day.
One afternoon, a man arrived to deliver a parcel to the old lady. The fine woman’s eyes were immediately drawn to him. He was tall and unassuming, dressed in poor, tattered farmer’s clothing. Yet, despite his humble appearance, he exuded a balance of confidence and humility. In his eyes, one could see an endless, pristine calmness, free from any storm.
He handed the parcel to the old lady, bowed, and left.
The old lady, eager to talk to him more, couldn’t help herself and called out: “Hey, come back! You forgot to collect the payment.”
The humble man returned, and as he stood before the old lady again, he remained silent, patiently waiting. Suddenly, a rainfall began, showering the entire marketplace.
It was the first rain of the year, a spring rain, and suddenly, the marketplace was in chaos.
The man, looking around calmly, saw a woman trying to cover her dry goods with blankets. Another man whispered his disappointment as the vegetables he had on display got wet, trying to salvage what remained.
In the midst of the commotion, the fine young woman, drenched in the rain but still graceful in her simple maidservant’s dress, caught the man’s attention. His world seemed to stop.
She hurried to cover a little boy who lived on the streets, a boy who appeared to have nowhere else to go.
The man observed her closely, noting her worn-out boots, her long dark brown hair, and of course, her pretty face, which he caught from a side glance.
From his distance, he couldn’t fully understand who she was or what she was doing there, but it seemed she was a native of this place.
As the man considered approaching them, the old lady spoke again: “Thank you. Would you like to sit down and have a snack? We have the best ginseng noodle soup in town, and it’s my birthday today. Perhaps you came like an angel to be part of my special day.”
The man, still expressionless but humble, responded, “Where can I sit and accept the blessing of the old lady?”
His voice was as calm as water, a response that surprised the old lady, who hadn’t expected such formality from a simple man with a stern face.
Intrigued, the old lady smiled and said, “Well, thank the heavens! This good-looking man will join our celebration in a moment.”
“Muqin, look what I’ve brought,” the fine woman said.
“Thank you, sweetie. We have a guest today.”
“A guest? I didn’t know you invited someone for your special day.”
The old lady and the fine woman came into the dining area and saw the man sitting there.
The man wasn’t looking at them. He was gazing at the soup on the table, but then he slowly lifted his face and saw the fine woman.
Their eyes met, and the man held her gaze for a little longer than he should have. The fine woman noticed and frowned at him.
The man, startled, suddenly stood up, stunned by the sight of her, wanting to speak. However, the moment quickly turned cold, and he found himself unable to say anything.
The man said to himself, “I’m sure she saw me.”
Lost in his thoughts, with his ruggedly handsome face, he stole a glance at her and said to the old lady, “It was nice meeting you. I’m leaving.”
The old lady, looking puzzled, asked, “Why are you leaving so soon? You didn’t even start your soup.”
Not wanting to be impolite, the man replied, “I have another parcel to deliver. A delay could get me in trouble.”
Not wanting to ruin the old lady’s birthday, he added, “If tomorrow is a good day, I’ll come and visit you again.”
He gave the old lady a kind look and left without waiting for a response.
The old woman, still puzzled, looked back and forth between the fine woman and the direction in which the man had gone.
The fine woman asked, “What? I didn’t do anything.”
The old lady replied, “If you keep frowning like that, you’ll never have a man in your life. You’ll end up an old lady like me.”
The fine woman smiled and said, “Why not? I’m a fan of yours.”
The old lady laughed. “I don’t believe that for a second,” she said, and then the fine woman suddenly blurted, “Muqin, don’t tell me…”
The fine woman quickly covered her mouth, trying to stop herself from speaking. The old lady, with a curious look, tried to decipher what she was hinting at. “Oh, don’t even think about it!” she said.
The fine woman laughed. “I didn’t know you liked younger men half your age,” she teased.
The old lady, not missing a beat, retorted, “I’ll snatch him away if you don’t notice something special in him! Tomorrow, if he’s a real man, he’ll come back.”
The fine woman brushed off the old lady’s teasing and said, “I’m going to change my clothes. I’m all wet. Oh, and here, this is for you.”
She left her gift on the table.
“How thoughtful and sweet of you,” the old lady said.
The next day, on the bustling business street, the man passed by the old lady’s Kowloon noodle house again, walking slowly, as if waiting for a call. The old lady noticed him and stepped into the narrow street to block his way. “What a coincidence to see you again, Mister!” she greeted him.
The man, keeping his cool and expressionless face, said, “I must have passed this way again on my route to deliver another parcel just around the corner.”
“Oh, I thought you were stopping by to finish your ginseng soup. It’s still cold from yesterday,” the old lady teased, reminding him of his unfinished meal.
The man, scratching his head, replied, “I did miss that ginseng soup, but I must finish my work first. Perhaps I’ll stop by after my job is done?”
The old lady grinned. “Alright, be sure to come by after your shift. I’ll prepare the best ginseng soup for you.”
The man nodded respectfully and continued walking. As he passed the Kowloon house, he stole a glance inside, hoping to see the pretty lady, but there was no sign of her. His heart skipped a beat.
The old lady, keenly observing, saw the glance and squinted her eyes. She had an idea of what—or rather, who—the man was looking for.
Later, the fine woman arrived, wearing her usual maidservant dress. The old lady, in a cold tone, asked, “Why are you late?”
The fine woman, not wanting to engage in an early morning argument, replied, “If I’m late, who’s early?” She smiled slightly and shook her head as she went to her kitchen duties. She was the cook of the best noodle house in the marketplace.
Customers began to arrive, and orders came in. The old lady shouted, “Two ginseng soups and black tea later!”
The fine woman, expertly slicing onions, suddenly threw an 8-9 inch chef’s knife at a nearby post, hitting it with precision among the many blade marks already there.
Her face was serious, and beads of sweat began to form on her forehead. She quickly folded a white cloth into a makeshift rope and used it to swat a nearby ladle. It flew through the air and landed perfectly in her hand. She opened a gigantic casserole, releasing a steamy aroma of ginseng, and used the ladle to gracefully pour the soup into a ceramic bowl.
It was a scene you wouldn’t want to miss.
“Order’s ready!” she exclaimed.
The old lady kept feeding orders to the pretty chef all day long, and the fine woman executed them flawlessly. Her quick, graceful movements transformed the kitchen into a disciplined training ground. Every blade mark, every move was calculated. She could tell when a knife throw needed improvement or when it was perfect. In her small space, she performed her cooking like a martial artist in training, leaving her sharp skills hidden but undeniable.
At the end of the day, there were always leftovers. After her chores were done, she donned a rugged, faded brown hood that reached halfway to her waist. She never missed a day of feeding the poor and homeless children in the streets.
A man stood outside the Kowloon house as the old lady counted coins. She tilted her head slightly and recognized him.
The man had kept his word. The old lady, in her usual bland voice, said, “A demigod is looking for you, and you might not want to meet him in your dirty clothes.”
The man, expressionless as ever, searched for the old lady inside the house but waited outside.
The fine woman, washing dishes, heard the old lady’s murmuring voice and asked, “Who?”
“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” replied the old lady, sarcastically forcing the fine woman to come out and see who was outside.
As the man began to walk away, the fine woman, still wearing her apron, peeked outside through the window.
The man, as if in slow motion, saw her pretty face. The crisp, fresh air brushed against him, and for a moment, time seemed to stop.
However, the fine woman, unable to see who was standing outside, frowned and, uninterested, whispered, “Maybe it’s a ghost.”
The old lady looked outside and, seeing the man was gone, said, “You’re late!”
The fine woman, growing frustrated, replied, “You keep telling me I’m late today. What’s the fuss? And I’ll never stop asking—who’s early if I’m late? There’s only a ghost outside.”
The old lady smiled to herself and thought, “This is interesting. How will the rooster meet the angry peacock?”
The fine woman, ready to leave, set out on her daily routine of feeding the poor, blessing them with heaven’s grace.
The next day, on a sunny morning, a child ran through the marketplace, chased by a group of gangsters. Terrified, the boy ran as fast as he could until he reached the front of the Kowloon house, where he collapsed in fear.
A man, dressed in humble clothing, was passing by. Without looking back, he extended his foot, tripping the first person chasing the boy. The man faked his anger, saying, “Are you blind? Watch where you’re going, or you’ll trip again!”
Sensing another attacker, the man turned and stepped on the foot of a second gangster, who yelped in pain. Meanwhile, the man acted as if it had all been accidental, saying, “Didn’t you see that I just stumbled?”
Three more gangsters approached the boy, paying no attention to their fallen comrades. They circled the boy, who began to knock desperately on the door of the Kowloon house.
Inside, customers looked on with concern as the commotion outside grew.
The old lady sensed that someone needed help and rang a bell, alerting the chef.
The man, standing at a distance, watched the three gangsters closing in on the boy and thought to himself, “Breaking the rules, are we?” He decided he would intervene to save the boy and then disappear.
The fine woman emerged from the Kowloon house, her expression cold and fearless. She looked at the gangsters as the little boy hid behind her skirt, and the bullies laughed at him.
While the fine woman rolled her eyes, debating whether to teach them a lesson or scare them by faking her identity, she grunted, “I’m the mother. Why are you bullying my child?”
The three gangsters showed no respect. One of them scoffed, “You? Thin and—” but before he could finish, the fine woman swiftly swatted his knee, making him bow before her. She gave him a swift smack on the rear and said, “What were you saying?”
The youngster swallowed hard and cried out in pain, while the man standing in the middle of the street watched silently, secretly hiding a joyful amusement in his cold eyes.
Another gangster lunged at the fine woman, but she quickly grabbed his shirt and hung him on the Kowloon’s wall lamp. She slapped him twice and said in a slightly angry tone, “If your mother hasn’t done this to you yet, come back anytime. My hands are always free.”
The man continued watching, amused by how the fine woman played the role of the little boy’s mother. He rested his hand on his jaw, his arched brow making him look like a stand-in Adonis.
After her “slapping session,” the little boy hiding behind her skirt giggled in victory. The fine woman held his hand and asked, “Where is the leader of this gang?”
The little boy pointed towards the man standing in the middle of the street, where the two gangsters writhed in pain beside him. The gang leader, running toward the man, pleaded for help.
The fine woman assumed the man was the leader.
The man, with his athletic build and a face as cold as the North Pole, yet with a hint of amusement in his eyes, suddenly grabbed the gangster leader by the ear. Pulling him toward the fine woman, the man handed him over and said, “I must be an accessory to the crime. Here’s your main offender.” He finally looked at her, offering a sly smile, and continued, “Like a father, I’m telling you to bow and show respect to the mother. Apologize to her child and promise this won’t happen again. For the next thirty days, you’ll serve her as penance for your bullying.”
His voice, calm as a hunting wind, managed to strike two birds with one stone.
The gang leader, enduring the pain in his ear, heard the voice of his “father.” He bowed his head to the fine woman and said, “We’re very sorry to the boy and to you, Aunt Muqin. I’ll fetch water to help with your chores and befriend your child.”
The fine woman, her anger softened but not fully gone, was satisfied with his promise.
She then shifted her gaze to the man, her beautiful brown eyes piercing into him. She said, “If these are your children, make sure they remember my child’s face. The next time I see them in this situation, I won’t just punish them—I’ll punish their accessory-to-the-crime father.”
The man, receiving that fierce but beautiful gaze, felt a warmth color the gray areas of his life. He replied, “Nothing to worry about.”
He paused for a moment, then added, “I only wish my children had a mother like you. Then I could sit in the corner of the house, knowing my kids were disciplined from head to toe.”
Praised and complimented for her “mother” role, the fine woman, satisfied, let the matter go, leaving the man and his gangsters behind.
As another day ended, the old lady watched from the windows of the Kowloon house. The crowd, in awe of the scene they had just witnessed, stood there, gawking and forgetting about their busy lives.
The old lady grabbed a staff, banging it repeatedly on a wooden post, and said, “The show’s over! Back to your seats, please.”
Startled, the crowd quickly returned to their seats, eager to resume eating their noodle soups.
Connect to Chapter 41 Blind date
Chapter 40
Buried in the snow
Chu Qiao, suddenly fleeing from nowhere, took her horse and escaped the palace. Her mind raced, and her face, once soaked in tears, now dried, leaving only a bitter coldness. She couldn’t understand and refused to give in, knowing that her memories were fragmented, like a puzzle missing its pieces. The Prince of Yanbei was an unexpected encounter, and in just four days, it felt as though she had spent four years with him.
Time slowed in his arms. His smiles, sweet nothings, and childlike attitude made her like him, but discovering Yan Xun’s advances and being reminded of their past as lovers complicated her emotions. It wasn’t just affection she felt; her present condition was tangled in a heart issue. She wasn’t interested in a relationship, knowing he was the Commander-in-Chief of the Xuili Army. Yet, she needed his attention, but the Prince didn’t seem interested in any process of getting to know her or forming a friendship.
Yan Xun breached the walls of her heart, though she believed she wasn’t ready for anything beyond friendship, even if the Prince may have seen in her a past love named Star. Her only comfort was that, in his eyes, she was A’Chu, his right hand, and still retained her position as his General. None of this mattered during their brief time together. Now, she had left him, unable to return his feelings. The Prince was also getting married in a few months, and if she stayed longer and took advantage of Yan Xun’s feelings, what would become of her?
Upon seeing the Canhong sword, her feet couldn’t stay still. At that moment, when Yan Xun nodded, understanding her eagerness, she could only focus on the sword. If there was one thing she was sure of, it was her desire to hold it. Unsheathing it brought her a sense of joy. It was the only favor she had asked of Yan Xun, and the Prince of Yanbei, in his grace, gave it to her, bestowing royal orders as she understood her role when Yan Xun walked to his throne. She had played her part well. However, her tears were unfamiliar, and the attempt at a kiss—one she was ready to receive from Yan Xun—ended with his rejection, dragging her away in confusion. What could it be? She felt no justice in it and was determined to find out.
Along the lonely road, she heard the sound of horse hooves. She quickly hid, and when the horses stopped near her, sensing her presence, one of their owners called out, “Show yourself!” Viper, looking around, sensed someone lurking. Finally, Chu Qiao emerged and pulled the reins of her horse, saying, “Did you just order your Royal Princess to obey you?”
Viper, hearing the familiar calm voice, turned and saw Chu Qiao. Narrowing her eyes, she said, “Mimi Gongzhu, where have you been?”
“I’ve been to Xiu Xiu mountains,” Chu Qiao replied, not wanting to be interrogated. She diverted the topic: “And the man at your back? What is he doing? Sleeping?”
Viper responded, “I used my powers to hypnotize him, but he gave me every excuse to search for you. If he’s tricking me, I’ll return him to where he first found me and let fate take its course.”
Chu Qiao chuckled and said, “I’d rather choose to have never laid eyes on you if I were He Xiao.”
Viper, finally relaxed after days of worry and sleepless nights, eased herself, finding Chu Qiao safe. However, dark circles still lingered around her eyes.
Chu Qiao joined Viper, and they rode back to the Xuili mountains, where they stayed for a few months. He Xiao woke up, free but still in conflict with Viper, who secretly watched over her Mimi Gongzhu. Viper remained silent in the camp, mysterious, but whenever a task required her presence, she followed Chu Qiao closely, acting as her escort rather than He Xiao. Meanwhile, Zhong Yu helped the forces at Meilin Border Pass, easing the struggles of the Xuili Army’s 5,000 troops against the elite Xiaoqi forces. The war had also devastated local towns, leaving many children orphaned, saved only by the Xuili army. These children, whose parents had been killed, were now in the camp’s custody.
Chu Qiao wrote to Yan Xun, requesting support to set up a rehabilitation facility to care for the children’s mental and emotional recovery, offering her services. The Prince of Yanbei responded positively, and since then, she became the mediator between the Xuili Army and the Yanbei Prince.
The royal escorts were freed and returned to the Prince of Yanbei’s envoy, unable to recount what had happened after they breached the Xuili military camp. Chu Qiao had neither seen nor heard directly from the Prince since their last encounter, though she occasionally received military announcements, royal orders, and letters addressed to the generals, especially General Chu. Despite the chaos, the Prince kept his word, giving her the space to breathe and reflect on Yanbei’s situation and the forces at Meilin Border Pass. Finally, General Chu was reinstated, receiving her orders to return to work under the absolute authority of the Prince of Yanbei.
It is winter, and Yuan Che, the current royal commander-in-chief at Xiaoqi camp, has gathered military intelligence and some baseless gossip overheard in the military galley and pantries. He observes these rumors, understanding that they are causing fear and weakness to spread within his camp. His curiosity grows, and he contemplates ordering a group of volunteers to undertake a suicide infiltration mission to enter the Xuili camp and investigate whether these rumors hold any truth.
Yuan Che devises a plan and selects five of his brightest men, specialists in sabotage, ambush, and infiltration using tactical military maneuvers. He finishes writing a letter and sends an envoy to the emperor for approval. The envoy arrives at Shen Jin Palace, and after reviewing the communication, the emperor, with little reaction, seals and approves the suicide mission on one condition.
Yuan Che accepts the condition and approaches the Bathuja family, requesting that Prince Zaru lead the mission. Five men and one Black Prince will complete the task. However, when the seal arrives at Bathuja Palace, Zama disapproves of the mission, believing it is a mismatch for their personnel. Zaru, on the other hand, insists on using five men from the Blackguards camp. The military and Blackguards traditionally do not work together, as their training and mindsets differ. The military operates under a strict chain of command, while the Blackguards follow no rules and will complete the mission by any means necessary, often on a one-way ticket.
Another obstacle arises as Yuan Che must respond to the Bathuja family. His father’s instructions are clear: without the Black Prince, there will be no mission. The Bathuja family prefers to use their own men rather than military strength for such a risky operation. Yuan Che faces a tough decision. Meanwhile, Yuan Song has been secretly intercepting these messages using the Eyes of God. He decides that he, too, wants to join the mission. Knowing his brother well, Yuan Song realizes Yuan Che won’t easily concede to the Black Prince. Seizing the opportunity, Yuan Song offers to include two men from the Eyes of God, specialists in espionage, to complement the military team Yuan Che will deploy.
Yuan Song visits Xiaoqi camp and meets his brother, Yuan Che.
“Brother, how are you?” he asks.
“This is a surprise visit. I didn’t expect the 13th Prince, Your Highness. What brings you here?” Yuan Che responds.
“Nothing in particular, I just wanted to see how my brother is doing. If there are any issues, perhaps I can help?” Yuan Song offers.
Yuan Che, desperate to execute his plan, hesitates. Involving his brother, the Crown Prince of Wei, might lead to punishment from their father. But his childish brother might just have a solution to his problem. Out of options, Yuan Che decides to confide in him. “I’ve heard some gossip, and you won’t believe this,” he says.
Yuan Song, intrigued, replies, “Leveled up, my brother? Or gone dull? We don’t work for gossip—we eliminate it, right?” He teases, while still curious.
“I know, but this gossip poses a threat to Xiaoqi camp,” Yuan Che confesses.
Yuan Song is shocked that his brother, the Commander-in-Chief, is treating gossip so seriously. If Yuan Che is alarmed, it must be more than just idle talk. The gossip might signal a hidden emergency, perhaps downplayed through diplomatic channels. Yuan Song has limited information, as the report intercepted by the Eyes of God was too vague. Suspense builds, and Yuan Song’s curiosity deepens. Yet, he continues to challenge his brother, waiting for him to ask for help.
“What is a little gossip compared to Wei’s 300,000 troops? Not to mention the 100,000 Wei Valve troops guarding the borders day and night?” Yuan Song says with pride in their empire’s military might.
“A gossip like this is like a match—one spark in the forest can ignite a wildfire. It cannot be overlooked,” Yuan Che explains.
Yuan Song, finally relenting, offers, “Tell me. Maybe I can help.”
Yuan Che, looking at his brother with a mix of hope and doubt, responds, “You? Did you forget your protocols?”
“Me? Forget? Just because I follow protocols doesn’t mean I can’t act on behalf of the palace out of military chivalry. In foreign kingdoms, princes are thrown into battlefields to be tested before they take the throne. They call it a baptism of fire,” Yuan Song replies.
“My little brother, I can’t have you join. This is a suicide mission,” Yuan Che says.
“First, I’m not little anymore. Second, maybe the risk you see isn’t a risk at all—after all, it’s just gossip. Third, I’m asking: will you let me avenge our sister, mother, and Wei Shu Ye? Internal conflicts have crept into our clan because I once believed peace could be achieved through goodness,” Yuan Song retorts.
Yuan Che, remembering how his brother blocked his path with 10,000 troops at the Meilin border pass, reflects on the past. “You even insisted that, as the Duke of Yanbei, you were willing to be stepped on. You believed you could achieve peace through those means? Our father was so depressed, he declared you Duke of Yanbei as a band-aid solution to show Wei’s sovereignty over Yanbei. When Yan Xun escaped, we had no choice but to plant a royal bloodline in Yanbei to maintain control. Your job was to expand our influence, but you were overwhelmed with your emotions and childish mind,” Yuan Che says, turning away.
Yuan Song smiles slyly, “That’s a long rant, brother. Try me now.”
“I can’t send you on a suicide mission,” Yuan Che insists.
“Then don’t make it a suicide mission. Use someone from the Eyes of God and let them operate as they used to,” Yuan Song suggests.
“Who? Without Yuwen Yue, the Eyes of God is just a machine, not ‘the Pulse’ it once was,” Yuan Che replies.
“Why not Yuwen Huai?” Yuan Song asks.
“Are you out of your mind? He burned down the Eyes of God repository! The smartest thing a noble could do—press the self-destruct button and boom!” Yuan Che snaps back, using sarcasm.
Yuan Song laughs, “Yes, that’s the smartest move the Supreme Court official could make—burn it all down.”
Both brothers reflect on the current state of affairs. Yuan Che realizes Yuan Song has a point: why did their father suppress Yuwen Yue, the Major General of the Eyes of God, and elevate Yuwen Huai, while dismantling the Supreme Court?
As they stare at each other, Yuan Che finally asks, “What is our father really after? Is he changing the regime, the imperial system, or does he want to sever Yan’s connection to the throne?”
Yuan Song, tapping his temple like a child deep in thought, irritates Yuan Che, who says, “Stop making funny faces. This is serious.”
Yuan Song, returning to seriousness, replies, “That’s what I’ll find out for you, if you let me take part.”
Yuan Song’s conviction surprises Yuan Che, as his brother’s calm, deep voice makes it difficult to refuse him.
Just then, an uninvited visitor arrives, and the military guard informs Yuan Che.
“Let him in,” Yuan Che orders.
Prince Zaru enters, wearing a black leather hood and traditional Hanfu clothing, his shoulders dusted with snow. His commanding presence fills the room as he greets the 7th Prince and, to his surprise, the Crown Prince of Wei, Yuan Song.
Breaking the tension, Yuan Che asks, “Define ‘Black’?”
“What else can it mean? The Black Prince is in Xiaoqi camp,” Zaru answers. Yuan Song, once serious, suddenly smiles, and Zaru mirrors him.
Yuan Song, still playful, asks, “What did the Black Prince eat and drink last night to bring him here?”
Zaru hands something to Yuan Song, who quickly returns to his formal look and passes it to Yuan Che.
As snow begins to fall in the mountains, the three men quietly contemplate the gossip that is slowly turning into truth. The Xuili Army seems ready to bury Xiaoqi camp deep in the snow.
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