Chapter 10: Autumnal Equinox

                         

The bright moon of the Autumnal Equinox shone on the sparse sycamore trees, which shaded the glazed tiles. The autumn breeze blew gently, and occasionally a tung leaf fell, with a soft "crack" as it brushed against the white jade steps and landed lightly on the ground. Jinniang, carrying the food box, carefully ascended the steps. Although Xiao was the former Crown Princess, after the Crown Prince's death, she moved from the Eastern Palace to the Yunguang Palace. This was originally the residence of the empresses. Although Sun Jing held the power of regent, he did not claim the title of emperor, but only the title of Grand Commander. Because of her awkward position, everyone in the palace addressed her vaguely, calling her "Madam Xiao."

Jinniang entered the palace with the food box, walked through the back hall, and continued to the small palace known as the "Xiyi Room" in the west side hall. She saw Xiao, still wearing her makeup, sitting in front of the mirror, lost in thought, holding a gold and jade comb. Jinniang stepped forward, bowed, and presented the food box, saying, "Your Majesty, this is lotus seed soup." Seeing Xiao nod, she opened the food box, scooped out a bowl, and offered it to Xiao.

As Xiao ate the lotus seed soup, Jinniang, seeing no one was around, whispered, "Let Your Majesty know that I've seen Jiang."

Xiao, stirring the soup with a spoon, seemed oblivious to the words. Jinniang continued, "Jiang is fine, but she keeps wrapping her belly in plain silk every day, fearing it might be noticed. But I see she looks fine, and hasn't had her morning sickness or vomiting."

Xiao then sighed softly and said, "This is the late Crown Prince's posthumous child. No matter what, I must find a way to get her out of the palace."

Jinniang said, "The palace is heavily guarded, and the Grand Commander is suspicious. I'm afraid..."

Xiao shook her head and said, "Even if it's harder than climbing to heaven, I'll try." She had been married to the late Crown Prince for over ten years, but they had no children. The late Crown Prince's eldest son, Li Xuanze, was born to Fu Liangdi. During the palace coup, General Han Chang led a team of soldiers and risked their lives to escort Li Xuanze out of the palace. Since then, his whereabouts have been unknown, and his life or death is unknown. Sun Jing dispatched numerous forces to track him down, determined to eradicate him. She remained silent, serving the enemy, and using their past friendship to smooth things over with Sun Jing.

Fortunately, after the coup, it was discovered that the crown prince's concubine, Jiang, was pregnant. Xiao hid Jiang in the harem, but her belly grew larger and larger, forcing her to remove her from the palace so she could give birth. If the child, regardless of gender, was born, it would be the crown prince's orphan.

She was naturally intelligent, and after several days, she actually came up with a plan. Sun Jing's first wife, Lady Wei Yuan, was deeply jealous of her. One day, when they met in the palace, Xiao deliberately provoked them, leading to an argument. Xiao ordered her female attendants to slap Lady Wei's maidservant several times. Lady Wei was deeply humiliated and furious, crying and making a scene in front of Sun Jing. Sun Jing had no other options but to personally go to Yunguang Palace and demand that she hand over the female attendants to Lady Wei for his disposal.

She sneered and said to Sun Jing, "I've been in the palace for a long time and have seen many things like this. The palace is full of snobbish people who flatter the powerful and bully the weak. Once someone falls into a lower position, anyone can trample on them at will. Today, Madam Wei ordered the Grand Commander to take my female official, and tomorrow she could order me to be poisoned. If I die, will the Grand Commander make things difficult for her, his legitimate wife, for my sake?"

Sun Jing was impatient to mediate such trivial matters and jealousies. He simply frowned and said, "Why do you have to do this?"

She sneered, "The Chenjun Yuan family is the Grand Commander's wife's family and has always been trusted by the Grand Commander. I have offended Madam Wei, so I have asked to become a Taoist nun and not remain here."

Sun Jing laughed at her words and said, "You're really provoking me."

"How dare I provoke the Grand Commander? I'm afraid that if I continue to stay in this palace, I will lose my life in vain. It would be better for me to leave the palace and cultivate Taoism, so as to avoid all the noise." As she said this, she tossed her sleeves, leaving Sun Jing there, and went straight to the inner room.

Sun Jing could not help but follow to the inner room, but he saw that she had taken off her hairpins and jewelry and was sleeping on the soft couch, but she was facing him with a sullen look. He sat down beside the couch, put out his hand to stroke her shoulder, and said jokingly, "You want to practice Taoism, I want to see, which Taoist temple in the world can accommodate you?"

She suddenly smiled, turned over and sat up, but hugged his arm, put her head on his shoulder, and whispered in his ear, "How about you build a Taoist temple for me, choose a place with beautiful mountains and rivers, not far from Xichangjing, so that it will be cheaper for you to come out of the palace to visit me, but..." He was tickled by her words, but she suddenly glanced at him with a look of joy and anger, her eyes tearing, "I'm afraid that I will leave the palace, and after three or five days, you will forget who I am." As she said this, she poked his chest with her sharp nails in hatred.

Sun Jing took the opportunity to grab her hand, kissed her fingers lightly, and asked casually, "Are you really going to practice Taoism?"

She fell into his arms again and said, "I don't want to stay in the palace. Madam Wei is not an open-minded person, and she can't help but make things difficult for me. Besides, everyone in this palace has a sharp tongue, and I don't want to be gossiped about by them every day."

Sun Jing reached out and stroked her long hair. He said, "Don't even think about cultivating the Tao. However, Shenniang beside you looks like a blessed person. Why not ask her to become a nun in your place?"

Hearing this, she pushed him away, sat on the couch with one knee bent, and sneered, "The Grand Commander really can't help but tell the truth. To save the Lady of Wei's face, I will ask my female official to leave the palace and cultivate the Tao. The Grand Commander might as well give me a pot of poisoned wine, and Shenniang and I will drink it together."

Sun Jing said, "Shenniang is your female official. She has offended the Lady of Wei, and she must be given an explanation."

She was angry. "What about the maidservant of Madam Wei? She offended me. Will the Grand Commander also allow her to become a nun?"

Seeing her lose her temper, he laughed and said, "Look at you, you always try to be stubborn."

She said, "If the Grand Commander treats everyone equally and punishes that maidservant, I will agree to let Shenniang become a nun. Otherwise, forget it." With that, she got off the bed, stretched out her arms, and pushed him out of the inner room. She locked the door and locked him outside. No matter how much he knocked, she refused to respond out of spite and went back to sleep on the bed.

She had just fallen asleep for a while when she heard the window creak. She closed her eyes and pretended not to know. Suddenly, her body felt lighter. It was Sun Jing who lifted her from the bed. She pressed her hand against his chest, refusing him to hold her, and said bitterly, "You might as well let me die, why are you bothering me again?"

He smiled, "Alright, alright. You've forced me into this situation by climbing through the window. Give me some face."

She then reached out and hooked her arms around his neck, saying angrily, "Then you have to say, I'm the only one in the world who can force the Grand Commander to do this."

Sun Jing had no choice but to nod, "Only you. If there were another, no, if there were even half as many, I really wouldn't be able to handle it."

She chuckled softly and buried her face in his arms.

They spent the night together, and Sun Jing finally agreed to send some of Madam Wei's maids out of the palace to practice Taoism, to save her face. The next morning, fearing he would break his promise, she tugged at his sleeve, demanding he give the order immediately. Sun Jing had no choice but to order the eunuchs in front of her to send the eight women, including Shenniang, her attendant, and the maidservant who had accompanied Madam Wei that day, out of the palace to practice Taoism. Satisfied, she finally let go of his sleeve.

Once Sun Jing had emerged from the Yunguang Palace, the eunuchs stepped forward, clasped his hands in greeting, and respectfully asked, "Grand Commander, where should these women be sent to practice Taoism?"

Sun Jing casually smoothed the wrinkles on his sleeve that had been pulled by Xiao, and said, "What kind of Taoism? Once we're sent out of the palace, we'll kill them all."

Xiao had meticulously planned to infiltrate Jiang, believing they could safely leave the palace and practice Taoism. However, the eunuchs, acting on Sun Jing's secret orders, executed all eight women as soon as the ox cart carrying them left the palace gates.

Since Xiao had sent Jiang out, she was worried and tried every possible means to send her only capable person to meet her. However, she received a secret report that all the women had been killed. She felt a sharp pain in her chest.

She sat before the mirror, her mind pounding with pain, unable to recover for a long moment. Not only had she failed to save Jiang, but she had also lost one of her trusted court ladies, Shenniang. Only Jinniang, frantically supporting her knees and softly calling, "Madam!" It took several calls to bring her back to her senses.

"I'm so useless," Xiao murmured. "I thought I had a plan, but I didn't expect it would harm Jiang and her unborn child. How can I face the late Crown Prince in the afterlife?"

"Your Majesty!" Jinniang said anxiously, "Your Majesty, don't think like that. You have tried your best."

Xiao shook her head sadly and said, "My uncle wrote to me a few days ago, asking why I didn't die. Our Xiao family has been blessed by the emperor for generations. I refused to die, which is disloyal. The late crown prince treated me with respect, and I refused to die, which is unjust. I humiliated my father and brother, and I refused to die, which is unfilial. In order to survive, my hands are stained with innocent blood, which is unkind... Why should I, such an unfaithful, unfilial, unkind and unjust person, still live..."

Jinniang supported her arm and said, "Your Majesty, if you're upset, just cry. Perhaps crying will make you feel better. Your Majesty, you've suffered so much."

Xiao shook her head and wiped her eyes with her fingers, only to find them dry. "I can't cry," she said. "I still want to live, at least until Xuanze is safe." She reopened her dressing box and said to Jinniang, "Please help me with my makeup. I'm afraid the Grand Commander will be here soon, and we can't let him see anything."

Jinniang was startled, "Maybe the Grand Commander already knew..."

Xiao smiled and said casually, "What if he knows? What if he doesn't? Since he's still willing to do this, I'll just stay with him." Then she picked up her black ink and carefully painted her eyebrows. Her eyebrows were long, her eyes were like waves, and her makeup was even more beautiful. She smiled at herself in the mirror, her beauty captivating as always.

The shimmering swordplay within the palace walls was treacherous and deadly, yet the outside world was completely unaware of it. Even Madame Wei believed her maids had been forced out of the palace by the Xiao family to become nuns, and she was filled with resentment. This turmoil was like a pool of spring water, rippling with the wind, but once it was gone, no trace remained.

Captain He, however, recuperated in the town's inn for several days, his injuries gradually healing. One day, the town suddenly saw many more refugees from Wangzhou City. Li Yi went to the streets to inquire and learned that Guo Zhi had allowed his soldiers to burn, kill, and loot everywhere. Not only had they robbed many wealthy families, they had also taken away able-bodied men at will, causing great distress to the countryside and devastating the people. The Zhenxi Army in Wangzhou City consisted of only a few thousand men, and defending the city was already difficult. Furthermore, they had no food or fodder, so they could not leave the city to engage in battle. Guo Zhi grew bolder and began harassing villages near Wangzhou. Finally, he approached the city walls and demanded Pei Yuan's surrender, threatening to capture Wangzhou if he refused. Once captured, he would massacre the city and treat its inhabitants as bandits. Consequently, many fled Wangzhou, carrying their elderly and children with them.

Upon hearing this, Li Yi felt a deep sense of worry. However, the Zhenxi Army had long been short of supplies, and a solution would take time. Although he had Captain He held hostage, Master Cui was far from a pushover, and extorting food from him would be difficult. He pondered over the situation, unable to come up with a plan. Suddenly, he noticed a sizzling streetlight. A small shop selling steamed sweet cakes was unloading its steamer and hawking its wares. He suddenly remembered that Captain He had recovered considerably from her injuries in the past few days, and her spirits had also largely returned. However, every time she took her medicine, she frowned and found it difficult to swallow. She had always been resilient. Even when she was alone in the mountains, starving and enduring all kinds of hardships, she endured them all. It was only recently, whenever she took her medicine, that she began to act like a child. Thinking of this, he paid for a square of sugar cake and returned to the inn with it in his hands.

The servant had been running errands for him these days and had earned quite a bit of money. When he saw him coming in with the sugar cake, he smiled and said, "My dear, how thoughtful of you! You must have bought some hot cake for me." Although this was a town, few people enjoyed snacks, and sugar cakes like this were even rarer. Only the elderly, doting on their grandchildren, would pay to buy them for their children. Naturally, he was teased for doting on his wife. Li Yi hadn't thought much of it at first, but the servant's words suddenly made his ears warm for no reason, and he smiled. When he entered the house, he saw Captain He leaning against the window, seemingly looking at the scenery outside.

She had already changed into clean clothes, which he had bought for her a few days ago from the apparel shop at the market. Although they were old, rough cloth, somehow they fit her perfectly, making her waist look even slimmer. But the injuries and illnesses of the past few days had made even her chin seem a little more pointed. Her small face, no bigger than his palm, rested on her elbow, her eyes lost in thought as she gazed at the bird's nest in the locust tree outside the window. He handed her the cake, saying, "Eat it."

She turned and saw it was a sugar cake. As expected, she was delighted. She took a bite, her cheeks puffed out like a squirrel. He was watching with interest when she suddenly remembered something and asked, "How do you know I like sugar cakes?"

Li Yi smiled and said, "I'm the best scout in the Zhenxi Army."

She remembered the medicine she had taken these days, which she found bitter. After taking it, she kept wishing she had a piece of sugar cake, but she only thought about it in her mind and never said it out loud. She wondered how he had guessed it. This man truly had a knack for reading people's minds, and it was hard to believe he had such a plan. The cake was soft, glutinous, and sweet, clearly freshly steamed. She took another bite, and suddenly a sense of alarm seized her. "You're being so attentive, what are you trying to do?"

He chuckled, "Your young master sent so many skilled men to ambush me, yet you sat waiting inside, waiting for me without even saying goodbye. Shouldn't I treat you to some cake?"

She was taken aback, not expecting him to see through her. She sighed, "They say you're the best scout in the Zhenxi Army. I always thought they were just flattering you, but now I know they're not exaggerating."

He shouted, "Come out!"

Suddenly, figures emerged from the bushes in front of and behind the house. Several figures tumbled from the rooftops, and seven or eight sturdy men rushed into the house. The leader was none other than Chen Xing, whom she had met that day in Guo Zhi's camp. He drifted in like a shadow, cupped his fists, and bowed to Captain He. He stood silently behind her.

Seeing this scene, Li Yi shook her head and said, "Tell the archers on the wall to retreat. I have something to tell you. I won't hold you hostage anymore."

But she glanced at him and said, "I also have something you won't like to hear, so let those archers stay where they are, otherwise you'll point a knife at my throat if you get angry later."

Li Yi shook her head and smiled helplessly. She waved her hand, and Chen Xing and the others retreated. At this moment, she asked, "What do you want to say to me?"

Li Yi said, "You have eaten my sugar cake, shouldn't you come with me to take over Bingzhou City?"

She couldn't help laughing, "You want to exchange a piece of sugar cake for Bingzhou City? Your wishful thinking is very good."

Li Yi said, "Han Li, the lord of Bingzhou City, is a treacherous and two-faced villain. He used to disobey the orders of the court, and later he and Sun Jing were at odds. Han Li is no match for Bingzhou City. The two cities of Bingzhou and Jianzhou are strategically located at a strategic point, both by land and water. Whether transporting food or deploying troops, they must pass through these two cities."

She couldn't help but glance at him. "It seems the emperor's grandson not only wants Bingzhou, but Jianzhou as well."

He nodded and said, "Jianzhou is over two hundred miles away from Bingzhou, and a fast horse can reach it overnight. As long as we obtain Han Li's tiger talisman, we can capture Jianzhou City." She knew exactly what he meant. If they could take Jianzhou and return with their troops, Bingzhou would naturally be in their pockets as well.

Li Yi said, "If I take you hostage to see your master, I'm afraid he will refuse to give me food and fodder. But if I have Jianzhou or Bingzhou in my hands, I'm sure Master Cui will be willing to negotiate with me."

When she heard his plan, she couldn't help but admire, "It seems that this is the sincerity of the emperor's grandson. He plans to use Bingzhou or Jianzhou to exchange for food for our Dingsheng Army."

Li Yi nodded and said, "I'm done. If you have anything to say that makes me unhappy, you can also say it."

Captain He suggested slowly and softly that Li Yi should still use Pei Yuan's name to negotiate with Han Li to see if he could waver Han Li. Li Yi said, "The Zhenxi Army is trapped in Wangzhou by Guo Zhi and has no food to fight with. Han Li is always cunning and will never give the Zhenxi Army any courtesy. It is better for the Dingsheng Army to send an envoy to negotiate with Han Li, saying that the army led by Master Cui of the Dingsheng Army wants to pass through Jianzhou and promise benefits. Han Li is cunning and greedy, and the Cui family army is very powerful and prestigious. He will probably agree."

When she heard him say this, she clapped her hands and laughed, "The emperor's grandson is really sincere and honest!" He sighed, "I knew you were waiting for me to say this. You'd better tell me what you are planning."

She smiled and said, "If our Dingsheng Army only sent an envoy to say such a big thing as passing through Jianzhou, even if the envoy was me, I'm afraid Han Li would not be shaken. Unless..." She smiled. Her eyes moved, she glanced at Li Yi and said, "Unless our young master comes to Han Li's house in person, he will definitely take it seriously."

Li Yi said nothing, just looked at her. She sighed and said, "It's a pity that our young master caught a cold and it is really inconvenient for him to travel. Therefore, if someone can pretend to be our young master and go to negotiate with Han Li, maybe we can succeed."

Li Yi said coldly, "Even if your young master didn't catch a cold, you wouldn't want him to take this risk. After all, Han Li is a treacherous villain. What if he detains your young master?"

She nodded frankly and said, "The difficulty lies in that our young master is not someone who can be impersonated by just anyone. Otherwise, it would be bad if there were a flaw like the one who took over the knife."

The allusion of "the one who took over the knife" refers to King Cao Cao of Wei, who felt his appearance was not majestic enough, so he used Cui Jigui to impersonate himself to receive the Huns envoy, while Cao Cao himself held the sword and stood at the head of the bed. After the meeting, he sent someone to ask the envoy, "How is the King of Wei?" The Xiongnu envoy replied, "The King of Wei is very elegant, but the man holding the sword by his bedside is a hero."

Hearing her talk, he simply smiled, thinking: You think your son is a hero, so you asked me to impersonate him. Although you publicly praise my heroism, why should I use his name? He was very unhappy.

She said, "As long as the emperor's grandson is willing to cooperate, if he successfully obtains the tiger talisman, the Zhenxi Army and my Dingsheng Army will each take a state, and we will establish a state. I can also agree on your behalf that all the food and fodder in the two cities will belong to the Zhenxi Army."

Li Yi pondered for a moment, thinking that this was a very generous offer. Since she came to persuade him to cooperate, she naturally knew that it was an offer he could not refuse. He had always commanded troops with great grace, and seeing this as a good deal, he suppressed his displeasure and said, "Then, we can do it." He then said, "Let's make a bet. Whoever captures or kills Han Li first will get Bingzhou; whoever obtains the tiger talisman first will get Jianzhou." He thought to himself: I can pretend to be your son, but when the time comes, don't try to control me. Even he himself didn't understand why he suddenly became so competitive.

Unfazed, she simply asked, "What if I capture Han Li and also obtain the Tiger Tally?"

Li Yi said gravely, "Then Bingzhou and Jianzhou will be yours. My Zhenxi Army will not object. Vice versa!"

She replied, "Okay. If both Bingzhou and Jianzhou belong to the Zhenxi Army, Jianzhou has always been a vital route between the east and the north. My Dingsheng Army will request permission to pass through the border someday, and the Zhenxi Army cannot refuse."

Li Yi readily agreed, "Yes! Vice versa!"

She raised her eyebrows and said, "Let's clap our hands to make a deal!" She extended her hand, and Li Yi lightly clapped his hands with hers three times.

After the two of them clapped their hands in pledge, they immediately led Chen Xing and the others on their way to Bingzhou. Since Li Yi had agreed to impersonate Master Cui, everyone from Captain He down to Chen Xing addressed him as "Master" with respect, never revealing a single flaw, truly treating him like Master Cui. This Master Cui was extremely particular about his daily necessities. Chen Xing carried countless silver coins, which he squandered along the way. After several days of traveling, he was overtaken by the Dingsheng Army, bringing with them carriages, servants, clothing, and even a few cooks and servants. The large group caught up with them, forming a mighty force. He ate exquisite meals and prepared delicate delicacies daily. When he sat or lay down, he was provided with clean mattresses he had brought with him. Even his carriage, though plain on the outside, was exquisitely furnished, with tea sets and tables built into the carriage. The two horses in the carriage rode with remarkable stability. It was unknown how they managed this, but no matter how bumpy the road, not a single drop of tea spilled from the teacups. Even though Li Yi, a grandson of the emperor, had witnessed the royal family's wealth and splendor, he had never seen such extravagance. He could not help but sigh, "The son of a military governor is truly arrogant and extravagant."

Captain He was like a maid, serving him daily. Whenever they stopped at a place to stay, she would personally check where he sat and slept, being incredibly attentive and considerate. He felt a pang of frustration, but he couldn't bring himself to ask her. Was this how she usually served Master Cui? Every time he thought of this, he couldn't help but feel an indescribable feeling within him, one he couldn't quite put his finger on. It was just incredibly uncomfortable.

They had arrived at Huli Town, not far from Bingzhou, but he saw her personally lighting the iron and ironing clothes for himself—oh no, Master Cui. He finally couldn't help asking, "How many maids like you does your master have around him?"

Without even raising her head, she said, "A few dozen."

He became more and more unhappy and asked, "Are there actually dozens of people like you?"

She was obviously a unique person, but she didn't care at all. She said, "The master has never lacked people to serve him since he was a child. Having dozens of maids is nothing unusual. Isn't the emperor's grandson living a life of luxury in the palace?"

He heard this but didn't object. She finally looked up, but not at him. Instead, she lifted the garment and examined it, then compared it to his. Then, with satisfaction, she said, "Young Master, this garment looks truly elegant on you."

Before he could reply, she suddenly felt annoyed, "Although they brought your clothes, they didn't bring your crown." It turned out that Young Master Cui usually wore a jade crown to tie his hair. Now, on the road, where could he find one? Even if he sent someone back to Dingsheng's camp to fetch it, it was too late.

He could no longer endure it and sarcastically retorted, "If I don't have the jade crown, I can't act like your young master anymore."

She thought about it, feeling somewhat discouraged. "If my hairpin were here, it would be of some use. It's not as fine as your jade crown, but it's made of mutton-fat jade and can be used."

That day by the well, he had snatched her hairpin, intending to ask her to trade it for her own pearls. Hearing her say this, he pulled something out of his sleeve and threw it in front of her. She reached out to catch it and saw that it was her jade hairpin. She was immediately delighted, "Oh, so you have it with you. That's great."

So she asked Li Yi to sit down, combed and tied his hair again, and put the jade hairpin in his hair. Looking at himself in the mirror, she was very satisfied, "Yes, this is the style of our young master." She wanted Li Yi to try on the clothes, but he was already very impatient and left in a huff.

Li Yi was depressed and could not fall asleep until midnight. He thought about how he could get back at the unspeakable loss he had suffered.

He had to wait for a chance to meet that young master Cui and make him suffer a big loss. But she was always cunning. If he wanted to make young master Cui suffer a loss, he had to deceive her first. As for the hairpin on his head, he pulled it off and weighed it in his hand, thinking that after the matter was over, he would ask her to return his pearls and then return the hairpin, without holding on for a moment, so as not to stain his hair. While he was thinking, he suddenly heard a few chirps of night birds outside, which was the secret signal of the Zhenxi Army.

Without making a sound or lighting a lamp, he quietly rose, poured a little lamp oil into the window hinge, and gently pushed the window open, soundlessly. A moment later, Xie Chang'er glided in. Overjoyed to see Li Yi, he grasped his hand and said, "Shiqi'er, you've been so hard to find."

Li Yi had been tracking Captain He from Guo Zhi's camp, but Pei Yuan and his men in Wangzhou City were extremely anxious. They dispatched forces everywhere, finally finding the hidden signs he had left and pursuing him. However, the Dingsheng Army was extremely alert, making it difficult to get close. Tonight, Xie Chang'er finally found a way, taking advantage of a brief slack in the scouts' presence to sneak into their lodgings. Li Yi then briefly explained his agreement with Captain He. Xie Chang'er was stunned and asked, "Shiqilang, you want to disguise yourself as Master Cui and go see Han Li?"

Li Yi replied, "No problem, I have a plan to escape." He then gave Xie Chang'er some more instructions, and Xie Chang'er nodded repeatedly before gracefully departing.

Han Li, the Governor of Bingzhou, was naturally surprised and perplexed to hear that Master Cui was coming to see him in person. However, with the Dingsheng Army advancing with overwhelming force, he could not afford to offend. He hurriedly opened the main gate to welcome him, setting up a banquet and entertaining him with singing and dancing.

He then asked Li Yi to take the upper seat, with Captain He standing at his side. Han Li took the main seat, and Han Li's trusted advisor, Lü Chengzhi, also sat at his side. As for Master Cui's attendants and servants, Chen Xing and others, they were also in the lower rooms of the mansion, where Han Li's subordinates entertained them at the banquet.

Han Li offered several rounds of wine with a smile before asking, "Master Cui, how about the singing and dancing?"

Li Yi said, "Since leaving our hometown, we have been through wars and dust all the way. We haven't seen singing and dancing for a long time. This scene is really worthy of the words 'peace and prosperity'."

Han Li couldn't help laughing and said, "Master Cui, you are too kind. I am very touched by your humbleness."

Li Yi said, "Of course, although I have never met Lord Han before, I have always admired your style."

Han Li couldn't help but say "Oh" and said, "I live in a remote place in Bingzhou, and I didn't expect you to show me such favor."

Li Yi said, "I have a few words to say. As the saying goes, the truth hurts, I don't know if Lord Han wants to hear it or not."

Han Li glanced at Lü Chengzhi, who clapped his hands, and the dancers and the band stopped and left together. Han Li then said, "Just say it, sir."

Li Yi said, "People see Lord Han as guarding Bingzhou and Jianzhou, both of which are strategic locations. The Grand Commander-in-Chief is far away in Xichangjing, and he needs to rely on Lord Han for a lot. If the Zhenxi Army advances eastward, Lord Han can send troops from Bingzhou and Jianzhou to encircle them. If the Zhenxi Army is powerful, Lord Han can retreat to the natural barrier of Bingnan Pass. He can be said to have the best of both worlds and be able to advance and retreat freely."

Han Li stroked his beard and said, "Our Han family has guarded Bing and Jianzhou for generations. I am the governor appointed by the court. To be honest with you, sir, I am also in a dilemma. On the one hand, there is the Grand Commander-in-Chief, who is powerful and majestic, and on the other hand, there are the Zhenxi prefectures, who were originally my colleagues." He couldn't help but sigh and said, "If we go to war with the Zhenxi Army, it will inevitably hurt the friendship of the past. But if we avoid fighting, we will lose our trust in front of the Grand Commander." After he finished speaking, his face showed embarrassment.

At this moment, Captain He suddenly said, "I have something to ask Lord Han."

Han Li had long heard from Lü Chengzhi that Master Cui had a trusted servant named He. So, when she suddenly interrupted, he showed no sign of displeasure. Instead, he smiled and said, "Madam He, please speak."

She then asked, "What does Lord Han think of the Grand Commander Sun Jing, who lives far away in Xichangjing?"

Han Li stroked his beard and smiled. "The Grand Commander is decisive, intelligent, and thoughtful. He is a rare hero in this world."

She nodded and said, "Decisive people are arbitrary, intelligent people are conceited, and thoughtful people are suspicious and don't trust others easily. Lord Han knows the Grand Commander very well."

Han Li couldn't help but laugh. "That's what you said, not me."

After a long drink, Han Li set down his cup and said evenly, “I haven’t finished speaking yet, Madam He. Please, go on.”

Captain He smiled faintly, her gaze calm but sharp. “Mr. Han, what do you suppose Grand Commander Sun Jing thinks of you?”

Han Li stroked his beard and smiled lightly. “Oh? I wouldn’t dare presume to guess.”

She continued smoothly, her tone measured yet piercing. “I fear that in the eyes of the Grand Commander, you are a greater threat than the Zhenxi Army—or even Li Yi, the Emperor’s grandson and commander of the loyalist army.”

Han Li’s heart trembled, but his face remained unreadable. “I would like to hear your reasoning.”

“The Grand Commander is decisive in his killings,” she said, her voice calm but cold. “The late emperor, the late crown prince, the princes and their sons—over a hundred have perished by his hand. Naturally, this has created an unbridgeable enmity with the Emperor’s grandson, Li Yi. The Grand Commander’s ambitions are vast. Having gone this far, he will surely follow the path of ancient regents—support the young emperor’s rise and hold true power behind the throne.”

Her cherry-red lips moved gracefully, and though her words were heavy with politics and blood, her tone was captivating.

Han Li nodded slowly. “That much is true.”

She leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Since the Grand Commander has long planned to dominate the realm, even though the Zhenxi Army is strong, his preemptive moves may yet grant him victory. But you, Lord Han—you have long ruled Bing and Jian states. When the Grand Commander pacifies Zhenxi, what will become of you?”

Han Li sighed deeply. “There’s no need to say it. When the cunning rabbit dies, the hunting dog is cooked. It has always been this way.”

Captain He’s eyes sparkled with cunning. “Then tell me, Lord Han—if you were the Grand Commander? The Zhenxi Army advances swiftly, my Dingsheng Army presses south, and Bing and Jian prefectures slip from your grasp. What would you do?”

Han Li smiled knowingly. “Why, I’d compel myself to march out—pit my forces against Zhenxi’s. No matter who wins or loses, the Grand Commander benefits.”

She laughed softly. “Lord Han is truly a wise man. You understand the Grand Commander’s heart.”

Han Li laughed as well, lifting his cup. “The ‘brocade bag girl’ lives up to her name indeed.” He raised his glass toward Li Yi. “Mr. Cui is truly fortunate.”

Li Yi listened silently, reading the meaning between the words. Even the seasoned old fox Han Li had acknowledged her subtle wisdom. Smiling faintly, Li Yi raised his glass in return.

Laughter and the clinking of cups filled the hall. But as the mirth lingered, Li Yi’s sharp eyes caught a servant slipping hurriedly through the doors. The servant bent close to Lu Chengzhi’s ear, whispering something urgent. Lu’s brows knitted, and he tugged gently at Han Li’s sleeve.

Han Li rose smoothly. “Mr. Cui, please continue enjoying yourself. A small matter calls me to the back hall. I shall return shortly.”

Li Yi smiled with polite detachment. “Of course, Mr. Han. Attend to your matters.”

Han Li bowed slightly before leaving with Lu Chengzhi.

---

In the back hall, the truth awaited.

Envoys sent by Sun Jing from the capital had arrived at the Governor’s Mansion in Bingzhou—laden with gold, silver, jade, and silks. They claimed these were Sun Jing’s gifts of honor for Han Li’s “service.”

Leading them was none other than Han Li’s fellow townsman—Gu Zhen, the ninth son of the illustrious Gu family of Bingzhou.

The Gu clan had long been one of the empire’s most powerful families, with countless sons and daughters holding high positions. Among them, Gu Zhen’s cousin, Gu Jia, shone the brightest. Before Sun Jing’s rebellion, Gu Jia had served as the Minister of the Central Secretariat—a true statesman. Even during Sun Jing’s campaigns, when imperial pressure mounted, Gu Jia had boldly defended him before the emperor, valuing the realm’s stability over court politics.

But Gu Jia had never been Sun Jing’s ally. His loyalty was to the Li dynasty alone. After the coup, he refused to serve the usurper and withdrew into quiet seclusion, declaring, “I am a minister of the Li family. I live only in hope that the rightful crown prince may return.”

Many noble families followed his example, silently defying Sun Jing. Yet within that same proud family, one man craved power—Gu Zhen. Once a minor official, he had eagerly surrendered to Sun Jing, who rewarded him handsomely and sent him to Bingzhou as envoy, bearing gifts—and a hidden command.

Now, in Han Li’s great hall, Gu Zhen stood triumphant, overseeing servants as they laid out chests of gold and jewels.

With a false smile, Gu Zhen bowed slightly. “The Grand Commander says Lord Han has toiled greatly in defending Bing and Jian, resisting the rebels of Zhenxi. These are rare treasures from the inner treasury, chosen by his own hand to honor Lord Han’s loyal service.”

Han Li regarded him calmly. He remembered this man well—a mediocrity from a family of brilliance. Now, Gu Zhen’s smugness filled the hall like poison. Still, Han Li smiled. “Please, convey my humble gratitude to the Grand Commander. His kindness is beyond what I deserve.”

Gu Zhen chuckled. “You are too modest, Mr. Han.”

Han Li gestured politely. “Jiulang, please, take a seat.”

Gu Zhen smirked. “I sit on behalf of the Grand Commander.” He sank into the seat with theatrical ease, savoring his imagined power. Once, he had stood at the edge of this very hall, a lowly guest. Now he sat where governors dined.

Lost in his pride, he nearly missed Han Li’s calm voice. “I wonder—did Jiulang bring a letter or decree from the Grand Commander?”

Gu Zhen’s face hardened. Han Li had called him Jiulang—not Minister Gu. His voice turned cold. “Naturally. The Grand Commander sent me here for two reasons: first, because of our old friendship; second, out of concern for your safety. He has dispatched twelve golden-armored guards to remain by your side, to protect you day and night.”

He clapped his hands sharply. Twelve armored soldiers marched in, gleaming in the lamplight—each tall, silent, and grim.

Gu Zhen smiled proudly. “The Grand Commander himself selected them from the Imperial Guard. Twelve men—identical in height, unmatched in discipline. You are honored indeed, Lord Han.”

Han Li bowed slightly, his tone humble yet steady. “The Grand Commander’s kindness humbles me. Tell him that I shall repay his favor by fighting the Zhenxi rebels to the very end.”

Gu Zhen’s pride softened into satisfaction. “Very good. Very good!”

Han Li then personally arranged fine guest rooms for him and escorted him away. Only after Gu Zhen departed did Han Li return to the back hall.

Turning to his trusted aide, he asked, “Chengzhi, what do you make of this?”

Lu Chengzhi’s brow furrowed. “The Grand Commander’s ‘gift’ is a leash. Those guards are not protectors—they’re watchers. His way of forcing your hand to fight.”

Han Li’s expression darkened. He exhaled slowly, a shadow crossing his eyes.

Lu Chengzhi added quietly, “The Cui family guests are still in the banquet hall. Gu Jiu must not learn of this.”

Han Li’s expression turned sharp, his tone deliberate. “Those Cui family members… I think they could be put to good use. Cui Yi has only one son—and he’s delivered himself to my door. Don’t blame me for being ruthless.”

---

Han Li was gone for a long while.

In the grand hall, candles flickered like molten gold, casting long shadows across marble floors. Dancers swayed gracefully to the rhythm of flutes and drums, their sleeves fluttering like mist. Servants moved swiftly among the guests, refilling wine cups and bringing delicate dishes.

At the center of it all, Li Yi sat quietly, drinking glass after glass, his face calm—perhaps too calm. With a subtle tilt of his sleeve, he poured the wine onto his robes, soaking the fabric to appear drunk.

After several more rounds, his hand slipped. The cup toppled with a light clink. He chuckled softly. “Ah, how did it tip over?”

Captain He immediately rose and caught him by the arm. “Young Master, you’re drunk,” she said, voice low but urgent.

Li Yi leaned against her as if truly unsteady. But his whisper brushed her ear: “Something’s not right.”

Her pupils narrowed. Without hesitation, she clutched the hidden fireworks within her sleeve, ready to signal Chen Xing and the others. But the heavy stillness of the mansion reminded her—they were all inside Han Li’s compound. Escape would not come easily.

The two exchanged a quick glance. Before either could speak, Lu Chengzhi entered, leading a swarm of armed soldiers whose blades gleamed under the lantern light.

His voice was cold and crisp. “Mr. Cui is drunk. Send him to the guest room to rest.”

Captain He frowned. Her wrist flicked, releasing the fireworks from her sleeve. Almost simultaneously, she raised her arm and fired a concealed crossbow.

Under her cover, Li Yi darted toward the window. The arrow found its mark—one of Lu Chengzhi’s men fell with a cry. Chaos erupted. Soldiers rushed in from every corner, swords clashing as they surrounded Captain He.

Li Yi kicked the window open, only to find ranks of archers lying in wait outside—bows drawn, arrows ready. His eyes flashed. He kicked an archer aside, grabbed a fallen blade, and cut down two more men before preparing to leap into the night.

Then came Lu Chengzhi’s voice, calm and mocking.
“Mr. Cui, wait a moment.”

Li Yi turned. Behind him, Captain He had been seized, a blade pressed against her neck.

Lu Chengzhi’s lips curled into a smile. “Master Cui, since you’re already here, why leave so soon? Bingzhou’s hospitality is not so easily declined.”

Li Yi’s eyes darkened. He wiped the blood from his blade with two fingers and said coldly, “Your way of treating guests is far too grand.”

Lu Chengzhi chuckled. “If I fail to detain you tonight, I cannot answer to my lord. I have no choice but to kill this girl from the He family and report accordingly.”

Without hesitation, Li Yi said, “If I surrender, you must release her.”

Captain He cried out, “Master, go! Don’t fall for this villain’s lies!”

Lu Chengzhi smirked. “Don’t worry, Master Cui. If a man of your distinction remains in Bingzhou, the Dingsheng Army will surely be anxious. Naturally, we’ll send this Lady He back to explain things to General Cui—so no misunderstandings arise.”

He’s fingers tightened around the fireworks hidden in her palm. Chen Xing had not appeared. Her heart sank. They must have been caught.

Her voice trembled with defiance. “I’m not leaving! Master, I’ll die with you!”

She thought to herself—With Li Yi’s skill, he could escape if he tried. And if he did, surely he’d come for me later. Besides, Han Li wouldn’t value one mere woman over such a prize as Cui Yi’s son.

Suddenly, a metallic clang broke the silence.

Li Yi had thrown his knife to the floor—surrendering.

Captain He froze, eyes wide with disbelief.

Lu Chengzhi laughed heartily. “Ah, Young Master Cui is truly affectionate. To cherish beauty so deeply—it’s admirable!”

He motioned to his men. Soldiers surged forward and bound Li Yi tightly.

Lu Chengzhi personally led the escort, bringing Li Yi and Captain He to a luxurious guest room.

He gestured proudly. “Young Master, rest assured. The doors, windows, and even the roof are lined with fine steel. No assassin can reach you here. You are our honored guest—we must ensure your safety.”

Captain He snorted. “A cell is still a cell, no matter how you decorate it.”

Lu Chengzhi’s laughter echoed through the chamber. “A cell? This place is draped in brocade and fragrance. Surely, this is more like Qiluo Township than a prison!”

He turned to leave, but Captain He’s sharp voice stopped him.

“Wait! My young master is particular about cleanliness. Prepare hot water—I’ll help him bathe.”

Lu Chengzhi’s amusement deepened. “Very well. I’ll have a fragrant bath brought immediately.”

“And bring thick felt blankets,” she added sternly. “If my young master catches a chill in Bingzhou, the Cui Army will level this city to the ground.”

Lu Chengzhi smiled knowingly. “Understood. I’ll fetch the felts myself.”

Moments later, maids entered bearing steaming water, thick blankets, and rolls of silk. Captain He ordered them to hang the blankets over doors and windows, sealing every crack. Then, she had the bathtub behind the screen filled with perfumed water and sprinkled with petals.

When all was ready and the maids had left, the door was locked from outside.

She waited a beat, then checked every corner. Satisfied, she turned to Li Yi. Together, they tapped the floorboards, searching for traps. Beneath the table and bed, they found several tiny copper pipes—spy holes for eavesdropping. Li Yi quickly blocked them with layers of colored silk and tore strips of plain cloth to seal any other gaps.

---

Meanwhile, Han Li, upon hearing that “Master Cui” had been captured, could barely contain his satisfaction.

Lu Chengzhi reported proudly, “Rumors say Cui Lin is Cui Yi’s only son—sickly but brilliant in tactics. He fought fiercely tonight. Were it not for the lord’s trap, he might have escaped.”

Han Li nodded thoughtfully. “A man brave enough to walk into my house must not be underestimated. Keep watch on him closely—no mistakes.”

Lu Chengzhi bowed. “Everything is in place. The guest room has been fitted with listening tubes, and guards monitor him day and night.”

---

Back in the room, Captain He checked once more—every hidden pipe sealed, every sound blocked. She whispered, “Young Master, you can bathe now.”

They stepped behind the screen. The bathwater shimmered with petals, reflecting soft moonlight that slipped through cracks in the tiles above.

Li Yi’s eyes flicked upward. Someone was watching.

He grasped her wrist lightly and gave a meaningful glance. She understood instantly and fell into his arms.

His lips barely moved. “There’s someone on the roof.”

Her breath brushed his cheek as she whispered, “What do we do?”

Li Yi’s gaze caught on several strips of red silk draped over the screen—light and delicate, almost weightless. An idea sparked in his mind. He dipped a hand into the bathwater, stirred the petals, and spoke deliberately, his tone teasing but calculated:

“The water’s perfect,” he said softly, eyes glinting. “Why don’t we take a bath together?”

His voice was calm—neither loud nor soft—just enough to carry across the room.
He was speaking not to her, but to the unseen spy crouched on the roof, quietly prying away tiles to peer inside.

Ah Ying’s eyelashes fluttered, uncertain of his intent.

Before she could ask, Li Yi’s arm slipped around her waist. With the other, he seized the long strips of red silk draped over the screen and gave a firm tug.

The silk unfurled and soared into the air, fluttering like a streak of crimson light across the dim chamber. A heartbeat later, he swept her into his arms and rolled into the bathtub.

The water splashed, hot steam billowing upward as the red silk descended in soft layers, veiling the tub completely.

Above them, the spy’s view was lost. The swirling folds of silk crisscrossed and shimmered, a crimson mist obscuring all beneath. He shifted, trying to find an angle—but no matter how he moved, his sight was gone.

---

Beneath the silken canopy, the water rippled. Li Yi surfaced with Ah Ying still in his arms. The steam hung heavy between them. Her wet lashes trembled, her eyes clouded with a luminous haze, and the candlelight—filtered through red silk—painted her cheeks a soft, delicate rose.

He didn’t know if it was the heat or her closeness that made his chest tighten and his pulse pound. Though he had tested the water earlier, now it felt scalding, seeping into his skin and nerves.

The tub was narrow—too narrow. Her arm brushed his. The water swirled lazily, gliding between them like a whisper. He reached out, his fingertips brushing her ear.

Her lashes quivered. So close—her eyes mirrored his reflection perfectly. A droplet slid down her cheek, catching light like a pearl. In that instant, she seemed to him a fragile flower in full bloom, one breath away from melting.

He plucked a petal from her hair, inhaling the faint fragrance that clung to his fingers—he couldn’t tell if it came from the flower or from her.

The silk overhead pressed the heat downward, making the air thick and breathless. His voice sounded distant, blurred by the steam.
“Is the water… too hot?”

Her gaze flicked toward him—half amusement, half reproach. Her cat-like eyes glimmered. The tub was too small; her hand rested lightly on his arm. Her skin, smooth and pale as carved jade, was impossibly soft. He resisted the urge to hold it, wondering how it might feel—like silk floss, perhaps, or freshly fallen snow.

But snow was cold, and she was burning. Her palm against his elbow was a live coal—searing, stinging.

Unable to make her move away, he turned his gaze toward the silk canopy. “We can talk now,” he murmured. “The spy can’t see what’s happening inside.”

She glared. “Then why didn’t you escape just now?”

He smiled faintly. “You were going to live and die with me. If I ran, wouldn’t that make me ungrateful?”

“I don’t want to live and die with you,” she retorted, then stopped halfway through.

He looked up at the drifting silk, tone casual. “If I leave, I lose the wager, don’t I? You asked me to play Master Cui—so I’ll play him well. If your master fell into enemy hands, would you abandon him?”

Her lips curved faintly. “I don’t know. But I would persuade him not to risk everything for me. He’s too important.”

Her words pricked him, though he said nothing. The things he truly wanted to ask—he couldn’t.

The heat, the red light, the scent of flowers—it all blurred together. The faint flush on his face and ears made him look almost bashful, like a shrimp fresh from boiling water.

The tub was cramped. Tall and long-limbed, he had to hunch awkwardly, arms folded, knees bent. Even so, she pressed close to him like a seed clinging to its shell. His whole body was taut, muscles coiled in restraint. The usually carefree man looked almost comically stiff.

She couldn’t help but laugh.

“What are you laughing at?” he asked, suspicious.

“Just thinking,” she said, “our first meeting wasn’t that different.”

He blinked, recalling Zhilu Hall. “True. But you were fierce back then. Attacked me the moment we met.”

“Nonsense!” she snapped. “You attacked me first!”

“You stole my beads and still haven’t returned them!”

She feigned confusion. “What beads? Oh, that broken belt? I threw it away long ago.”

He lifted a brow. “You threw away my family heirloom and still dare to act proud?”

Her hand reached for her hairpin. “In that case, I won’t return your beads unless you return my jade hairpin.”

Before he could react, she plucked the hairpin from his hair and fixed it in her own. He reached out, but she blocked him, pressing his hand firmly against his chest.

He could hear his heart hammering—loud, erratic. He dared not grab her hand. If he did, he wasn’t sure what he might do.

“Give it back,” he demanded, voice strained.

She smirked. “What, Master Cui? Do you want to fight me here?”

He wanted to tell her to move her hand, but couldn’t—afraid she’d feel the wild rhythm beneath it. So he forced a laugh and changed the subject. “Let’s talk business. We’re trapped here—what’s your plan?”

Her expression softened. She withdrew her hand, resting it on the rim of the tub. Her nails were smooth and faintly pink, like translucent petals.

“Of course,” she said, “I’ll return to the Dingsheng Army—and rescue you, Master.”

He looked at her, half-joking, half-serious. “Really? You’ll come back for me?”

She tilted her head, then lifted his chin with one finger. Her eyes were deep as onyx, reflecting the red silk, the flickering candlelight—and him.

He froze, his breath shallow.

Her voice was soft as drizzle. “The Emperor’s grandson’s head is worth countless cities. How could I not save him?”

He laughed quietly, heart both light and heavy.

---

Above, the spy shifted again, frustrated. The red silk blocked every view; no sound reached his ears. All he could see was the faint dance of candlelight—and perhaps, a soft laugh echoing faintly from below.

Later, Han Li received the spy’s report and burst into amused laughter. “So, our Young Master Cui is truly a man of elegance—even when bathing, he performs with such charm!”

Lu Chengzhi bowed. “That He girl was clever. She covered all doors and windows with thick felt. They found and blocked every copper listening tube. Our men can’t hear a thing.”

Han Li chuckled. “No matter. For one imprisoned, Master Cui still enjoys himself. Truly, a rare and interesting man.”

---

By night’s end, knowing they were still being watched, Li Yi and Ah Ying climbed from the bath and feigned composure. They lay together beneath a red silk quilt woven with golden mandarin ducks—a mockery of intimacy.

He wanted to request another quilt but dared not; it would raise suspicion. So he lay beside her, eyes tracing the shifting patterns on the canopy above. The candlelight shimmered faintly through the fabric, flickering like restless thoughts.

He thought she had fallen asleep, her breathing slow and even. But he knew better.

“I have something to ask,” he murmured.

Her eyes remained closed. “What?”

“I still don’t know your name.”

“You know my surname,” she replied lazily.

“What does your young master call you?”

That made her open her eyes. They lay face to face, close enough to feel each other’s breath.

“Why are you asking this?”

“Afraid of being exposed before Han Li?” he teased. “Do I need to call you He as well?” Then, with a glint in his eyes, “How about I give you a name?”

She snorted. “With your temperament, I’ll end up called Cat or Dog.”

He leaned closer, smiling. “A cat suits you. You even act like one.”

He had always thought so—sharp, proud, unpredictable. He pictured her stretching lazily like a feline, and warmth stirred within him again.

But before his imagination wandered further, she rolled over suddenly, eyes opening to meet his. Her lashes trembled like flower stamens. For a fleeting second, he wanted to touch them, to feel them flutter in his palm.

Her gaze changed—complicated, unreadable. To break the tension, she turned her back to him. “Just call me Ah Jin,” she said.

He exhaled, restless. “A fake name, of course. I won’t use it. How about Adao? Or Azhen?”

She frowned. “Why those?”

He chuckled softly. “Think about it.”

Her face stiffened. She turned, grabbed his collar, and pressed her gold-threaded blade to his throat. “Are you mocking me for pretending to be pregnant twice? Once with straw, once with a pillow?”

He looked at her steadily. “You know everything about me—my family, my rank, my name. Yet you hide yours. If Han Li kills me tomorrow, I’ll die not even knowing your name. Isn’t that unfair?”

Her fingers trembled. The knife lowered. Slowly, she turned away, lying down without a word.

He also lay back, back to back, listening to her quiet breathing mingling with his.

Then her voice, soft as a sigh: “My name is Ah Ying. My mother gave it to me.”

Silence, then his whisper: “Ah Ying… what a beautiful name.”

He thought of the night they first met—fireflies rising like stars, her figure gliding through their light. Even when she stabbed him, she had been luminous, like a blade made of moonlight.

Ah Ying. He repeated it silently, over and over, as if afraid it would fade if he said it aloud.

---

Morning came.

They dressed, restless. Finding a Go board, they played idly to pass time. Soon after, Lu Chengzhi entered, followed by a maid carrying a tray of freshly picked flowers.

He bowed. “My lord said that Young Master Cui is a refined man. These flowers are for your enjoyment.”

Li Yi didn’t look up. “Your master breaks promises. He swore to release He Shi if I surrendered. Why hasn’t he?”

Lu Chengzhi smiled smoothly. “The lord feared our rough servants might offend your delicate nature. Lady He, as your companion, is best suited to serve you.”

Li Yi’s gaze sharpened. “Who is the envoy sent from the capital?”

Lü Chengzhi was startled — he hadn’t expected such a question. For a moment, he stood dumbfounded.

Li Yi continued calmly, “Your master had long been considering an alliance with our Dingsheng Army, yet now he holds me captive. Clearly, someone from the capital must have arrived, forcing him to change his mind.”

Lü Chengzhi slowly regained his composure. No wonder, he thought, my master called this Master Cui a formidable man. Cui Yi’s son truly lives up to the name — ten men’s worth of wit and courage. He was about to utter a few perfunctory words when Master Cui added with quiet confidence,
“I have a plan — one that will ease your master’s dilemma.”

---

The next morning, Gu Zhen awoke in the luxurious Governor’s residence, wrapped in the softness of silk and the arms of two lovely concubines gifted by the Han Mansion. They had pampered him so thoroughly the night before that he did not rise until the sun was high. Still half in a daze of indulgence, he was flirting with the two beauties over breakfast when Lü Chengzhi entered, beaming.

He bowed deeply and said with exaggerated delight,
“Congratulations, Minister Gu — congratulations indeed!”

Gu Zhen, puzzled, raised an eyebrow.
“What makes you so cheerful this early?”

Lü Chengzhi grinned. “Minister Gu is truly a man of fortune! The moment you arrived, Cui Yi’s son — the famed Cui Lin — came personally to Bingzhou to visit our lord.”

Gu Zhen froze mid-sip, his mind reeling.
“Cui Yi’s son? Cui Yi, the Governor of Lulong, Protector of Shuobei — that Cui Yi? His son Cui Lin?”

Lü Chengzhi nodded eagerly, stepping closer to flatter him.
“Indeed, Minister! The whole world knows that Cui Yi has only one son — loved more than his own life. Yet this young master is so bold that he dared come here himself! The Grand Commander, using you as his envoy, has bestowed countless treasures and twelve golden-armored guards upon our lord. Such kindness cannot go unrepaid. So, our lord has detained Cui Yi’s son — and intends to entrust you, the Minister, with escorting him to the capital. Once the Grand Commander holds Cui Yi’s son as a hostage, will that old general still dare to disobey? Minister Gu, escorting Master Cui back to the capital will be a monumental achievement! It is our lord’s way of showing his gratitude to you — an old friend and benefactor.”

Gu Zhen’s heart soared. He could scarcely believe his ears.
What luck! What glory!

He had never imagined that such a grand accomplishment would fall into his lap. His choice to serve the Grand Commander Sun Jing had been brilliant indeed. He thought of his proud clan elders who had sneered when he joined Sun Jing, praising instead Gu Jia for his “lofty integrity.” Well, who would be laughing now?

If he delivered Cui Yi’s son to Sun Jing, the Grand Commander would surely reward him handsomely — perhaps even promote him three ranks higher. From third-rank minister to first-rank — Prime Minister! Then his clan would bow before him, just as they once bowed to Gu Jia.

Delighted, he exclaimed, “Wonderful! Truly wonderful! I shall remember this favor, Lord Han. When the time comes, I’ll repay it generously!”
In his mind, however, he was already imagining the future — himself as Prime Minister, with Han Li standing humbly before him. He would pat Han Li’s shoulder, smile magnanimously, and call him Han Shiyilang as though bestowing grace. The image made him nearly burst out laughing.

Lü Chengzhi then said smoothly, “Since we’ve detained Master Cui, our lord insists that all further actions — interrogation, escort, and the like — must follow Minister Gu’s command. After all, you represent the Grand Commander himself.”

That left Gu Zhen momentarily at a loss. Despite his high title, he was an empty vessel — a man who had risen through family connections, not talent. Once, he had been a minor sixth-rank official scraping by through bribes and favors. Only Sun Jing’s political maneuvering had elevated him to third rank, meant as a display to win over aristocrats. He had neither the wisdom nor the courage for delicate matters like this.

Sensing his confusion, Lü Chengzhi leaned in with a cunning smile.
“Minister, since you’ve served in the Ministry of Rites, you’ve handled ceremonial affairs — not military interrogations. It would be unseemly to question Master Cui directly without orders from the Grand Commander.” He lowered his voice. “Still, that young man is arrogant. It would serve us well to humble him first — make him obedient for the journey.”

Gu Zhen’s eyes brightened. “Oh? And how do we humble him?”

Lü Chengzhi explained his scheme in detail. Gu Zhen, being shallow and vain, was thrilled. The idea of showing off before the son of the mighty Cui Yi — one of the Empire’s ‘Three Heroes’ alongside Sun Jing — filled him with delight. In Shuobei, parents used Cui Yi’s name to frighten crying children; to humiliate his son now would be delicious beyond measure. Gu Zhen nodded eagerly and ordered Lü Chengzhi to see it done.

---

That evening, the Governor’s residence glittered with luxury. Han Li arranged a grand banquet in honor of the Minister. Twelve golden-armored guards — a personal gift from Sun Jing, selected by Gu Zhen himself — stood in the hall, spears gleaming under lantern light. The sight was awe-inspiring. Han Li placed Gu Zhen in the seat of honor, dancers swayed to the rhythm of flutes, and dishes from land and sea flowed like a river of abundance. Golden cups of fine wine were raised and refilled endlessly until Gu Zhen’s laughter filled the hall.

Then Han Li signaled.
“Bring in Master Cui.”

The crowd fell silent as Cui Lin entered — calm, dignified, and utterly composed despite his captivity. He walked unhurriedly, a beautiful young woman trailing behind him. Gu Zhen stared, stunned by his poise. What a pity, he thought. Cui Yi has fathered a fine son indeed. But no matter how high the dragon flies, today he must crawl. No matter how fierce the tiger, today he lies at my mercy.

His gaze shifted to the young woman behind Cui Lin — seventeen or eighteen at most, dressed in a man’s attire. Her bright eyes and delicate features shone through her disguise. A beauty, he thought greedily, already plotting to ask Han Li for her once this was over. Since the son is a prisoner, the woman must surely belong to me.

Han Li rose, smiling. “Master Cui, we are honored by your presence. This is Minister Gu — personal envoy of the Grand Commander.”

Gu Zhen puffed up, feigning humility. “I’ve long admired Master Cui’s reputation. Seeing you today, I find it well deserved.”

Cui Lin barely spared him a glance. With quiet indifference, he led the young woman to a seat. His arrogance made Gu Zhen’s face flush with anger. Just wait, he thought bitterly. Once I take you to the capital, we’ll see how long that pride lasts.

Han Li interjected diplomatically, “Master Cui, Minister Gu represents the Grand Commander himself. Please, do not be disrespectful.”

Those words swelled Gu Zhen’s chest with self-importance. He straightened his robes and gave a proud snort. Cui Lin, however, merely leaned back, his tone cool as frost.
“I came here in good faith to visit Lord Han, yet he has detained me. Does he mean to make an enemy of the Cui family’s hundred thousand troops?”

Han Li laughed lightly. “You misunderstand. You are our honored guest. It just so happens that the Grand Commander’s envoy is present, so we must request his permission to escort you safely to the capital.”

The word permission tickled Gu Zhen’s vanity. He chuckled heartily and said,
“Yes, yes — I will personally escort you. Xichangjing is a splendid city; once you arrive, I’m sure you’ll be so happy you won’t want to return home.”

He smirked, pleased with his wit — the pun on “happy there and not wanting to leave one’s homeland,” likening Cui Lin to Liu Chan, the foolish last ruler of Shu. Gu Zhen chuckled to himself, quite proud of his own cleverness.

Unexpectedly, Master Cui didn’t even look at him. His voice was cold and sharp.
“You fool, how dare you raise your voice in my presence?”

Gu Zhen’s face twisted in fury. “How arrogant! Are you looking down on the Grand Commander himself?”

Han Li quickly stepped forward to calm him. “Minister, please, don’t be angry. He’s just a young man—he doesn’t know who he’s speaking to.” Then he turned to Master Cui and added, “Master Cui, this is Minister Gu of the Bingzhou Gu family—the ninth son, and cousin to Prime Minister Gu Jia.”

Only then did Master Cui lift his gaze. His eyes glimmered with disdain as he said, “So, you’re related to Gu Jia? I’ve heard of him. But how could such a noble house have produced a cousin this despicable?”

His tone was full of scorn, each word cutting like a knife.

Gu Zhen’s nostrils flared. Of all things, he hated being compared to Gu Jia. That name had haunted him since childhood. Gu Jia—the prodigy who’d made his name before twenty, whose essays had shaken the empire, whose talent in poetry and governance had earned the Emperor’s praise. Before thirty, he’d already become Prime Minister—a legend of his time.

And Gu Zhen? Still a lowly sixth-rank official.

Even his wife would mock him.
“Gu Lang of the main branch rose to Prime Minister in ten years. You, too, are a Gu Lang—and after ten years, you’re still nothing but a sixth-rank nobody!”

Her words stung like poison, and he’d borne it in silence then. But today—today—he refused to endure such humiliation again.

Gu Zhen jabbed his finger toward the young woman standing beside Master Cui. “Who is this woman?”

Han Li answered quickly, “That is Lady He. Surely you’ve heard of her—the ‘Golden Bag Girl’ of the Dingsheng Army, highly cherished by Master Cui.”

Gu Zhen had never heard of any “Golden Bag Girl.” He only saw an opportunity to humiliate this arrogant prisoner. He smirked. “If she’s so talented, let her come to the capital and dance for the Grand Commander’s birthday.”

Master Cui’s expression darkened.

Gu Zhen puffed up proudly. “What’s wrong? Are you defying the Grand Commander’s orders? Or showing him deliberate disrespect?” He sneered, knowing full well that refusal meant disgrace.

But Master Cui simply said, his tone calm, “She doesn’t dance well. Why don’t I perform a sword dance for her—in honor of the Grand Commander?”

Gu Zhen blinked, taken aback. Han Li clapped his hands and laughed. “Marvelous! What a treat this will be.”

He winked at Gu Zhen, who thought it wasn’t a bad idea—Cui Yi’s son, dancing with a sword like an entertainer. What could be more satisfying? He nodded eagerly.

Seeing his approval, Han Li ordered, “Bring out the swords for Master Cui to choose from.”

Master Cui waved a hand. “No need. I’ll borrow Lord Han’s sword.”

Han Li chuckled. “My sword is a gentleman’s blade—it’s unsharpened.”

“No matter,” said Master Cui, smiling faintly. “I’m borrowing it for a dance, not for killing.”

Han Li laughed and unhooked his sword. Lü Chengzhi took it respectfully and presented it to Master Cui.

The young woman suddenly spoke, her voice clear and sweet. “Master, let me accompany you. I’ll play the zither and sing.”

Her voice was like an oriole’s call—soft, lilting, captivating. Gu Zhen’s heart stirred at once. He vowed silently that he must have this beauty for himself. Not here, perhaps, but once he was escorting Cui Yi’s son back to the capital, she would be his for the taking.

Han Li smiled. “Wonderful! The beauty plays, and the hero dances. A perfect match.”

A zither was brought forth. Lady He knelt gracefully, tuning the strings. Her slender fingers glided over them like ripples over jade. “Xian Weng, Xian Weng…” she murmured, and a melody as pure as spring water filled the hall.

Gu Zhen leaned forward, enchanted. Even just watching her play was a pleasure. He barely noticed Master Cui standing in the center of the hall, sword in hand, his movements fluid as he began his dance.

Lady He sang softly:
“Glittering and vast, frost and snow on both sides…”

The sword in Cui’s hand shimmered like flowing light. Each movement was elegant yet deadly, the sword flashing like frost. But Gu Zhen’s eyes never left the beauty by the zither.

Her voice rose:
“Let’s dance upon jade steps—there will come a day when we are needed…”

Master Cui spun closer to Han Li. The blade in his hand—though unsharpened—glinted like lightning. Lu Chengzhi felt a chill run down his spine.

The music swelled.
“The song is precious—none dare to break its tune…”

Lady He’s voice turned fierce, the rhythm like the beat of war drums.
“The hero within is emboldened—”
Her fingers struck the strings like steel.
“Outside, we shall drive away the jackals and destroy them!”

As the final word—“destroy”—rang out, the sword’s flash swept across the hall. The twelve golden-armored guards blinked, momentarily blinded by the glare.

In that instant, Master Cui struck.

One guard fell dead before he could even cry out.

Blood spattered the marble floor. The others drew their weapons in panic, rushing at him. But Li Yi’s blade moved like a storm—each stroke clean, precise, unstoppable. Within moments, ten lay dead, and the last two tried to flee—only to fall beneath his sword as well.

The hall fell silent except for the echo of dripping blood.

Li Yi stepped forward, his sword gleaming red. He pointed it toward Han Li and said coolly, “Lord Han, I thank you for your hospitality. As for this envoy…”

He turned to look at Gu Zhen—who had collapsed to the ground, trembling, eyes wide with terror. His robes were soaked, and the stench revealed his disgrace. When Li Yi’s gaze met his, Gu Zhen burst into sobs, too frightened even to beg for mercy. His lips quivered, but no sound came out.

Li Yi turned back to Han Li. “Send someone to escort this envoy back to the capital. Tell the Grand Commander that I have accepted Lord Han’s invitation to visit him—and to enjoy his hospitality. And if he has time, he may come visit me in Youzhou. I will return the favor exactly as I have received it today.”

His tone was calm, but every word struck Gu Zhen like thunder.

Yes, this was truly Cui Yi’s son. The blood of the “Three Heroes of the Empire.” No wonder men trembled before him. To think Gu Zhen had dared provoke him—he must have been mad.

Just as he was consumed by regret, Master Cui asked coldly, “Gu Zhen, have you memorized what I told you to say to Sun Jing? Miss even one word, and I’ll march to the capital myself—to take your head.”

Gu Zhen nodded frantically, trembling like a leaf, unable to speak.

Han Li, cornered, could only obey. He ordered a carriage prepared and sent Gu Zhen away at once, so he could deliver Master Cui’s message to the Grand Commander.

Once the envoy had fled like a frightened ghost, Li Yi offered the blood-stained sword with both hands. “Return the jade to Zhao,” he said softly.

Lu Chengzhi stood frozen, pale as death. The air still reeked of iron. When Li Yi extended the sword toward him, he dared not move—but neither dared he refuse. He reached out with shaking hands and accepted it.

Han Li, still remarkably composed, smiled faintly. “Master Cui’s sword dance was… truly breathtaking.”

Li Yi laughed quietly. “You’re too kind, Lord Han. I only wished to help you untangle a small problem.”

The plan had been simple yet deadly. Han Li had complained of Sun Jing’s envoy and his guards; Li Yi had offered to remove them. Together, they staged the sword dance—a massacre disguised as art. Now, the blame would fall upon Cui Yi’s son, and Han Li’s hands would remain clean.

Han Li, impressed by his cunning, had agreed without hesitation.

When the deed was done, Li Yi gestured toward Lady He. “The feast has been grand, but it’s time to part. As promised, I’ll take her back.”

Han Li nodded quickly. “Of course, of course.”

Li Yi helped He to her feet. “When you return,” he said softly, “tend to your injured leg properly. Use the right medicine—and don’t let it worsen.”

She murmured softly, “Hmm.”

Li Yi studied her for a moment. Her eyes were calm and deep as water, quietly reflecting his own face. A thousand words swirled in his mind, yet none found their way to his lips.

He finally waved a hand. “Let’s go.”

He couldn’t bear to watch her leave, so he turned and headed back toward his embroidered chamber.

“Wait,” she called suddenly.

He turned just as she pulled the white jade hairpin from her hair. She held it out to him. “For your lucky charm.”

Something stirred within him. He reached out and took the end of the hairpin, but for some reason, she didn’t let go. They held it together, eyes meeting, a thousand unspoken words flowing between them. Only when he applied a gentle pressure did she finally release it.

He smiled faintly and placed the jade hairpin in his hair. “Such a beautiful head,” he said softly. “If I were to lose it someday… I wonder if anyone would cry for me.”

“I never cry,” she replied, and turned to leave, surrounded by the soldiers of the Han Mansion.

---

Han Li, after ordering He’s release, still felt uneasy. But since Cui Yi’s only son was under house arrest in his mansion, he could use that as leverage. Perhaps he could even negotiate with the Zhenxi Army—if Li Huangsun offered a higher price, he might sell Cui Yi’s son to him instead. Ideally, the Zhenxi Army and the Dingsheng Army would fight each other to the death, and he could sit back and watch.

Unexpectedly, early the next morning, a fast horse arrived with urgent news: the vanguard of the Dingsheng Army was heading straight for Bingzhou. Tens of thousands of troops were on the move, nearly at the city gates. Han Li wondered if they were using this chaos to force his hand.

While he was still pondering, a messenger from the Dingsheng Army arrived with a letter. Han Li quickly summoned him. The messenger turned out to be Chen Xing, who had accompanied Master Cui and He Shi the day before. He Shi had released him, and Han Li, in a show of generosity, had also released Chen Xing and all the Cui family servants. Yet, here he was again.

Calmly, Chen Xing presented the letter. Han Li unfolded it and read. His face turned red with fury. The letter was written in elegant, disciplined script—each stroke steady and graceful, showing long years of practice. It was clearly penned by Master Cui himself. The letter explained that Cui had intended to visit Han Li in person, but knowing Han’s treacherous nature, he had sent someone in his place. As expected, Han Li had imprisoned the imposter. Now, Cui was leading his army to capture Bingzhou.

When Han Li finished reading, he was livid.

Chen Xing added coldly, “Our young master said, ‘It’s a pity that Lord Han can’t tell the difference between a fish eye and a pearl.’ Still, since the He family showed you mercy, we’ll leave your body intact when we take the city.”

Han Li nearly spat blood in rage. He drove Chen Xing out and ordered Lu Chengzhi to kill the fake Master Cui immediately.

Lu Chengzhi, terrified by the situation, hurried to obey. Moments later, he returned with his guards, dragging in the shackled imposter.

Han Li glared at him. “Didn’t I say to kill him at once?”

But Lu Chengzhi hesitated. “My lord, this man claims he’s talented and has something important to say. Perhaps we should hear him first.”

Han Li snorted. The fake Master Cui lifted his head and said, “My lord, I was Master Cui’s study companion. I owed him much and risked my life in his stead. I never thought he’d abandon me like this. Now that he’s betrayed me, I’m nothing but a discarded pawn.”

Han Li sneered. “You know you’re an abandoned pawn—what good are you to me then?”

The man gritted his teeth. “Since the Cui family is unkind, I will be unrighteous. Master Cui’s army is nearly upon you, and you’ve already fallen into his trap—slaying twelve golden-armored guards and sending Gu Jiulang away. You’ve offended the Grand Commander; he won’t send help. But I have a plan that could turn this around.”

Han Li narrowed his eyes. “Speak.”

“The Cui family recently stole the Zhenxi Army’s food supply. The Zhenxi soldiers hate them to the bone. If Lord Han sends someone to Wangzhou to speak with Li Huangsun, the Zhenxi Army will likely join forces with you to crush the Cui family’s Dingsheng Army. You’ll lift the siege, and they’ll regain their provisions—a perfect exchange.”

Han Li considered this silently. Reports from Guo Zhi’s men had confirmed that the Cui family had robbed the Zhenxi Army’s grain stores. If that hatred could be used to his advantage… perhaps this plan had merit.

The fake Master Cui continued, “I have nothing left. Only you can give me a future. Send someone to test the waters with the Zhenxi Army. If they refuse, you can kill me then. If it works, I’ll serve you faithfully.”

Han Li said grimly, “Lock him up first.”

Li Yi was taken to the dungeon—this time, not a guest room but a dark, damp cell that reeked of rot. He was given neither food nor water. Still, he remained calm.

Two days later, Lu Chengzhi came in person, bringing guards to escort him before Han Li again.

Han Li’s expression had softened. “The envoy I sent met Pei Xian’s son, Pei Yuan. After consulting with Li Huangsun, Pei Yuan agreed to join forces with us against the Dingsheng Army. But he has one condition—he wants passage through Jianzhou to march south afterward.”

Li Yi paused, then said, “If he hadn’t asked for something, I’d say it was a trap. But since he has, it’s eighty percent likely to be genuine.”

Han Li nodded slowly. “Explain.”

“Promise to let the Zhenxi Army pass,” Li Yi said. “Then, when they enter Luoxia Valley—narrow terrain, easy to defend—you can ambush and annihilate them all.”

He laid out a detailed plan: where to lure the enemy, where to strike, and when to close in. Han Li listened, impressed.

“Have you read military texts?” he asked.

Li Yi replied, “I was Master Cui’s study companion. I studied calligraphy, painting, music, chess, and the art of war with him since childhood.”

Han Li nodded. “A true talent.”

Lu Chengzhi, standing nearby, felt a pang of jealousy. He had served Han Li for over ten years without such praise, and now this young man had won favor in a single day.

Li Yi said modestly, “My lord is too kind. I only wish to serve loyally in these troubled times.”

Han Li replied, “We’ll see. When the Zhenxi Army attacks, I’ll release you to lead the ambush. If you succeed, I’ll make you my chief clerk.”

Li Yi bowed deeply. “Thank you, my lord.”

Lu Chengzhi’s envy only deepened. Later, when he escorted Li Yi back to the dungeon, he ordered food and wine to be brought. Pouring a cup himself, he said, “I haven’t even asked your name.”

Li Yi smiled. “You’re too kind, Sir Lu. I was sold to the Cui family when I was young. That thief Cui gave me the name Cui Yin.”

Lu Chengzhi laughed and toasted him. As the wine flowed, both men began to loosen up. “You’re lucky,” Lu Chengzhi said with a sigh. “You’ll have a bright future under our lord.”

Li Yi feigned drunkenness and slurred, “I can’t compare to you, Sir Lu. You’ve served him faithfully for years. Please take care of me in the future…”

They laughed together, but before long, Lu Chengzhi suddenly collapsed to the floor.

“Sir Lu? Sir Lu!” Li Yi called out, kneeling beside him.

The guards rushed forward, fumbling with the keys to open the cell—only for Li Yi to strike them down one by one. Outside, Xie Chang’er and his men overpowered the other guards and burst in. As he filed away Li Yi’s chains, he said, “General Pei and Master Cui are attacking the city!”

Li Yi nodded. They changed into city guard uniforms and split into two teams, seizing control of the north and south gates.

Under cover of darkness and chaos, they killed the local commanders and opened the gates.

When Han Li heard that mutiny had broken out, he panicked. Seeing the city in flames and thinking the enemy had already broken through, he fled toward Jianzhou with only a handful of guards.

By dawn, the Zhenxi and Dingsheng armies had both entered the city. The defenders, realizing Han Li had abandoned them, surrendered without a fight.

Pei Yuan inspected the captured city. Li Yi approached him and asked, “Why did you bring so many people?”

Pei Yuan smiled faintly. “Shiqi’er, I really must thank you. After the chaos you stirred up in Bingzhou, I personally went to see Guo Zhi and persuaded him to surrender.”

He had meant only to send an envoy. Yet after some thought, he decided to go himself. Guo Zhi had already been wavering; recalling how Sun Jing had treated Han Li, his despair deepened. With grim resolve, he led what remained of his army to surrender. When Pei Yuan launched his surprise attack on Bingzhou, Guo Zhi had personally commanded the vanguard, fought through the siege, and secured the city’s defense—so he never met Li Yi.

Li Yi laughed softly. “You take all the credit for persuading Guo Zhi to surrender, and yet you try to flatter me.”

Pei Yuan chuckled. “If you hadn’t shaken Bingzhou first, he wouldn’t have made up his mind.”

Their exchange was interrupted by the arrival of a soldier from the Cui clan’s Dingsheng Army. Bowing, the man said respectfully that his young master wished to meet His Highness. Li Yi and Pei Yuan exchanged a look.

“I’ll go,” Li Yi said.

Ever since he and Captain He had agreed to impersonate Young Master Cui, curiosity had lingered in his mind—what kind of man was the real one?

When they met, the truth was almost disappointing. The man appeared to be in his twenties, dressed in a battle robe embroidered with a golden taotie. Servants clustered about him in ostentatious display. He was burly and thick-faced, his eyes heavy-lidded with indulgence. Bowing with forced courtesy, he greeted, “Greetings, Your Royal Highness.”

Li Yi merely nodded. Inwardly, disappointment settled like cold ash. So this was the famed Master Cui—nothing more than a pampered heir. Why was Ah Ying loyal to such a man? And why wasn’t she here? The thought stirred unease in him. He pushed it aside and spoke politely of the Dingsheng Army’s hardships.

The man’s smile stiffened. “It wasn’t hard for me to enter the city. But Ah Lin—our commander—is leading the army outside the walls. Your Highness should personally send word to comfort them.”

Only then did Li Yi realize this was not Cui Lin, but his cousin, Cui Li.

Relief flickered in his chest. He smiled faintly. “Since Master Cui himself is outside the city, there’s no need for messages. I’ll visit him in person.”

Cui Li offered to accompany him, but Li Yi refused. He took only a few trusted guards and rode out swiftly.

The Dingsheng Army’s camp was a study in order and restraint—soldiers straight-backed, weapons neatly stacked, banners unmoving. Even as a temporary encampment, it radiated discipline and quiet strength. Li Yi felt a rare admiration.

Outside the central tent, he dismounted. Cui Lin emerged to greet him.

The man was tall and composed, his features finely cut. He wore no armor, only the Dingsheng uniform beneath a moon-white cloak embroidered with faint silver clouds. The wind tugged at his sleeves, lending him an air of effortless grace. He seemed less a general than a scholar from the capital.

“Greetings, Your Highness,” he said with calm dignity.

Li Yi, though reluctant to admit it, was struck by his bearing. This man, he thought, was truly a gentleman—refined, poised, and as gentle as jade.

Inside the tent, the scent of parchment and ink lingered. Scrolls and books filled the shelves—an uncommon sight in a command tent. Clearly, Master Cui carried his library wherever he went. His speech flowed with ease, his quotations precise, his thoughts sharp.

Among the officers present stood Captain He. Li Yi’s gaze caught hers. Though he longed to speak, he could only say formally, “I must also thank Captain He. Her assistance was invaluable.”

Master Cui smiled, unruffled. “Your Highness is too generous.”

They spoke of Bingzhou and Jianzhou. Despite his frail appearance, Master Cui analyzed military strategy with clarity and precision. Li Yi thought to himself that here was a man both scholar and soldier—a mind both gentle and formidable.

Then Li Yi’s eyes fell on an ornate mask resting beside the armor stand. Cui noticed and smiled faintly. “Forgive the jest, Your Highness. I’m not strong by nature and lack the presence of authority in battle. I wear the mask to lend me courage.”

Li Yi studied him. Beneath the calm exterior, his face was pale, his breath faint—a man marked by illness. Yet his spirit was steady and bright. “In the past, there was Prince Lanling,” Li Yi said with a faint smile. “Now there is you, Young Master Cui. Even the bravest warriors must yield to such grace.”

Cui laughed softly, the sound as light as wind over silk. They soon turned to discuss Han Li’s escape.

“Jianzhou lies but a hundred miles ahead,” said Cui, “yet the terrain is treacherous. Han Li fled there overnight. Did Your Highness set an ambush?”

“I sent men to chase him,” Li Yi replied.

“I did as well,” Cui said. “But he slipped through. Captain He mentioned there’s an agreement—whoever captures Han Li first chooses their reward first.”

Li Yi’s heart tightened. With a few effortless words, Cui had reframed his private wager with Captain He into a public alliance between two armies. Amused and uneasy at once, his gaze flicked toward her; she stood still as stone, eyes lowered.

When the meeting ended, Master Cui personally escorted him out. Li Yi mounted his horse. Captain He stood behind, head bowed, silent. He nodded to Cui and rode away, an inexplicable heaviness in his chest.

Inside the tent, Cui Lin began to cough violently. Captain He rushed to steady him while a young girl hurried forward with a medicine box. She mixed the powder with wine and handed it over.

“Young Master,” she said, frowning, “I told you not to take that medicine. You’ll cough worse tonight.”

Cui smiled weakly. “The Emperor’s grandson himself visited. I couldn’t let him see me half-dead.”

“It doesn’t matter who he is,” she muttered. “It’s not worth your life.”

Captain He added quietly, “The medicine suppresses the cough but carries cold poison. Can you counter it?”

“I’ll try,” the girl said, already gathering her herbs. Before she left, she warned, “No more poison, Master.”

When she was gone, Captain He helped him sit. Cui sighed. “After meeting him today, I see the Emperor’s grandson is not to be underestimated. I once thought the Pei family exaggerated his brilliance. Now I see he truly commands the Zhenxi Army.”

Captain He nodded. “He’s quick, decisive, and gifted—a rare commander in this age.”

Cui coughed again, his tone cooling when he spoke. “Perhaps. But the world is full of heroes. If he wishes to restore his country, he’ll need both patience and fate.”

Back at camp, Pei Yuan came running. “Well? What kind of man is he?”

Li Yi paused. “Delicate—but unfathomable.”

Pei Yuan raised his brows. “That’s high praise. You’ve never said that of anyone.”

Li Yi’s gaze drifted. “He’s Cui Yi’s only son—brilliant in both literature and war. No wonder the late Emperor forbade him to be sent to the capital as a hostage. A rare talent indeed.”

Pei Yuan frowned. “If he’s that formidable, we must find Han Li quickly. If Bingzhou and Jianzhou both fall into his hands, we’ll be trapped on the Guanxi Road.”

Li Yi agreed. Yet despite both armies’ efforts, Han Li had vanished without a trace.

That afternoon, a female messenger from the Dingsheng Army arrived, handed Li Yi a letter, and left without a word.

It was from Captain He—brief, polite, restrained. She invited him to meet her by the river that night.

Pei Yuan noticed the letter. “Who is it from?”

Li Yi smiled faintly. “Nothing important.” He glanced at the sky. “There should be a moon tonight.”

But when night fell, clouds smothered the heavens. A cold wind whispered through the reeds. Li Yi changed clothes and rode out alone.

The river stretched vast and dark. He waited—and soon, a small boat drifted from the shadows. Captain He stood at the stern, wearing a bamboo hat and straw raincoat, smiling faintly.

“I’ve been fishing all day and caught nothing,” she said. “If you board, there’ll be nothing to eat.”

Li Yi tied his horse and stepped aboard. “Then let’s hunt wild ducks instead.”

They rowed deep into the reeds. A few ducks landed nearby. She handed him a tiny crossbow, its arrows thin as needles, gleaming like frost. He fired—swift, silent, sure.

By the fire, they roasted the ducks in clay until the crust cracked open, releasing the scent of golden flesh.

“You roast well,” she said with a smile, remembering the night he had roasted a rabbit for her. Their eyes met; laughter shimmered like heat between them.

He asked quietly, “Why did you call me out tonight?”

“Can’t I?” she countered.

“You’re not the type.”

Her eyes flickered in the firelight. “And what type am I, Your Highness?”

The night was still. The world seemed to shrink to the glow between them.

Then his fingers went numb. A chill crept up his arms. Realization struck too late—the crossbow bolts had been coated with anesthetic.

Her voice was calm. “We’ll be taking you as a guest to the Dingsheng camp.”

He tried to answer, but his tongue grew heavy. The world tilted and went dark.

As she approached with her needles, his lips moved—breathing out a faint puff of air. Pain struck her hand. The needles pierced her own skin before she could retreat.

Her last thought before the darkness claimed her was bitter amusement: he’d kept the bamboo tube he once stole from her—the hidden weapon beneath his tongue.

Hateful.

She collapsed.

Li Yi rose unsteadily, removed the needles from her hand, and bound her gently with the rope she had brought. Watching her lie motionless by the fire, he felt a strange softness stir within him.

She looked peaceful—just as she had that night in Mingdai Stronghold, asleep and unguarded, her breath faintly sweet. The memory brushed him like warmth in the cold.

He laid her on a bed of reeds, covering her carefully before leaving.

He mounted his horse and galloped along the riverbank, the hooves striking the damp earth in rhythmic bursts. The night air was sharp, filled with the distant croak of frogs and the faint scent of silt. After several miles, he pulled the reins tight, the horse rearing slightly before he dismounted. Kneeling, he brushed his hand against the mud—fresh tracks. His lips curved faintly. Without a sound, he tied the horse to a low branch and followed the trail into the reeds.

The Dingsheng Army’s relentless pursuit had finally borne fruit. When Bingzhou fell, Han Li had slipped away under cover of darkness. Fearing interception, he hadn’t dared take the main road to Jianzhou. Instead, he had hidden in a nearby town until midnight. But as the Dingsheng Army swept through the area, searching every road and river crossing, Han Li realized he couldn’t delay another moment. With no choice left, he risked everything on a desperate escape by water.

It was a gambit devised by Captain He. She had studied the terrain and predicted Han Li’s movements precisely—his only escape lay by river. Her plan was to lie in ambush, using the current as her trap. Yet even the best hunter can become the prey. She had summoned Li Yi under false pretenses, intending to incapacitate him with a hidden needle before he could act. To her misfortune, Li Yi had read her intent. A flicker of movement, a counter-strike—then darkness. When she awoke, the riverbank was silent but for the sound of the current, and Li Yi was gone.

From the shadows, Li Yi watched the ambush unfold—a predator waiting for both mantis and cicada to fall into his net. The night was utterly black, the stars swallowed by thick clouds. The reeds swayed faintly in the wind, concealing the Dingsheng soldiers lying motionless among them. Not even an owl’s cry broke the silence.

Half an hour passed before movement stirred upon the water. Several small boats slid out from the reeds, barely making a ripple. Chen Xing, the Dingsheng officer in command, squinted into the dark, his breath held. Somewhere in the silence, he wondered whether Captain He had succeeded in neutralizing Li Yi. Yet the stillness around him gave no hint—only the slow, steady murmur of the river.

He thought grimly that the Zhenxi Army could never have imagined Han Li hiding right under their noses for two full days, waiting for the right tide to escape.

When Han Li and his men had almost cleared the reeds, Chen Xing let out a sharp whistle. The signal split the still night—and in an instant, streaks of fire ignited the sky. A rain of rockets arced downward, trailing sparks that hissed as they hit the water. Han Li froze, terror surging through his chest. The night erupted around him, flames reflecting off the black water like molten shards.

His men reacted instantly. Years of loyalty and battle-hardened instinct took over. They rowed furiously, the oars cutting the current like blades. The small boats shot forward into the river’s center, narrowly evading the fiery downpour.

Farther ahead, several large ships loomed. Relief flickered in Han Li’s eyes—until he saw figures scrambling frantically on deck. The ships were listing, water gushing through their hulls. The Dingsheng Army had struck preemptively, sending divers to bore holes beneath the waiting vessels. Now they were sinking fast, lanterns toppling into the current.

Seeing disaster unfold, Han Li’s boats veered sharply downstream. The river’s current, swollen from autumn rains, seized them and hurled them forward. They drifted several miles before Han Li dared to glance back. The fires from the ambush had faded to distant sparks, but he knew too well—the pursuit wouldn’t stop.

Just as despair began to claw at him, a faint golden light glimmered through the mist ahead. A ship—large, stately—anchored quietly by the riverbank. The lantern at its bow swayed with the wind, bearing a single character in black ink: Gu.

Hope surged in him. That vessel could only belong to Gu Zhen’s household. The Gu family’s fleet traveled swiftly, used by nobles to reach the capital by river in half the time of land routes. Han Li realized with a jolt—this must be the very ship arranged for Gu Zhen’s return to Beijing after his arrest. Perhaps the delays and confusion had left it stranded here. Fate, it seemed, had handed him a reprieve.

Meanwhile, the Gu family’s servants, after Gu Zhen’s sudden departure under Han Li’s escort, had been left stranded and uncertain. They rushed to report to the ancestral home. The news had thrown the elders into chaos until Gu Jia’s sixth daughter, Gu Wanniang, stepped forward. Barely seventeen, she was composed beyond her years. “If Uncle Nine has offended the governor,” she said softly, “then it is his burden to bear. He has already been sent to the capital. No disaster will befall us for his words.”

Her calm soothed the clan’s fears. She volunteered to travel to the capital herself, intending to explain the matter to her father, Gu Jia. The elders, admiring her resolve, allowed it. A cousin and several attendants were chosen to accompany her.

Yet before the journey began, the city of Bingzhou fell. The Zhenxi and Dingsheng Armies marched in, and the Gu clan once again hesitated. But Wanniang stood firm. “The army has entered without looting,” she said, her tone steady. “The soldiers maintain discipline, and the Zhenxi Army answers to His Highness Li Yi. There is nothing to fear. I must leave today—life or death, I will return to the capital.”

Her courage won reluctant approval. The Zhenxi Army soon issued an official notice under Li Yi’s name, reassuring the citizens. That evening, under a violet dusk, Wanniang’s carriage departed for the river. The vessel awaited her—an official ship of lacquered wood, sturdy and refined. The moment she boarded, the river breeze caught her sleeves like pale silk wings.

Because the hour was late and the lower reaches of the river were known for treacherous rapids, she ordered the crew to anchor near the shore for the night.

The ship’s interior glowed with lamplight. Her great-uncle rested in one cabin while she occupied the other. Her maid, Qiu Cui, lit a candle, the flame dancing in the still air as Wanniang settled before her embroidery frame.

“Sixth Lady,” Qiu Cui said with delight, “I still can’t believe it! We’re truly returning to the capital. I thought we’d spend our whole lives in this quiet little province.”

Wanniang smiled faintly, her gaze resting on the neat stitches beneath her hands. “Quiet isn’t always peace,” she murmured.

Qiu Cui prattled on, her voice full of childish pride. “You’re so clever, my lady! Just a few words from you, and the elders agreed to send an escort. When we return, you must tell your husband how that Third Lady schemed against you.”

The smile faded from Wanniang’s lips. The Third Lady—Gu Jia’s spoiled daughter—had long tormented her. Two years ago, on their grandmother’s seventieth birthday, that woman had falsely accused her of desecrating a sacred Heart Sutra, costing Wanniang her reputation and sending her into exile. It had been a cruel sentence disguised as piety.

Since then, she had lived quietly, fasting and praying, until the news of Gu Zhen’s return to the capital reached her ears. She had understood immediately that the tides in their family were shifting—and that this was her chance to return.

Now, as the candlelight trembled, Wanniang exhaled slowly and resumed her stitching. Each thread gleamed in the lamplight, her fingers moving with mechanical grace.

Then—
A faint sound broke the quiet.

Both women froze.

Qiu Cui’s eyes widened. “Sixth Lady... was that—thieves?”

Before Wanniang could speak, the door burst open. A rush of cold air extinguished the candle. Steel glinted in the darkness—blades, half a dozen of them.

The leader lunged forward and seized Qiu Cui before she could scream. “Silence,” he hissed. Trembling, she nodded frantically, her lips pressed shut.

Another man stepped in, his shadow falling across the room. He pointed his sword toward Wanniang.

“You,” he growled, voice low and hoarse. “Step away from her.”

Gu Wanniang, unshaken by the chaos outside, quietly pulled a length of white silk over her half-finished embroidery. Then she rose and stood beside Qiu Cui by the cabin window. The intruders had already boarded—their faces shadowed by tension. It was Han Li and his men. One group seized control of the helmsman, while another followed Han Li into the cabin.

The flickering candlelight brightened the room. Gu Wanniang glanced at the man’s stern face, trying to discern who he was, but his silence betrayed nothing. Han Li’s gaze met hers, cold and assessing, his expression unreadable.

A heavy stillness settled between them. The only sounds were the soft gurgle of the river brushing against the hull and Qiu Cui’s faint chattering of teeth. Gu Wanniang took her maid’s trembling hand, steadying it gently.

Han Li noticed the composure in her eyes and was quietly taken aback. Just then, a faint click came from outside—like a fish leaping onto the deck. His instincts screamed danger. Before he could move, the cabin door and window burst open simultaneously. A volley of arrows streaked through the air. The assassins inside were caught off guard—several fell instantly.

In the confusion, a candle toppled and shattered. The flame vanished. Darkness swallowed the room.

Han Li moved with practiced speed. Drawing the blade hidden in his sleeve, he seized Gu Wanniang, pressing the edge coldly against her neck. The faint scent of her hair brushed his face. She did not scream. He held her close, his mind cold and calculating—if another arrow came, she would be his shield.

Screams, steel, and splintering wood filled the cabin. Outside, the clouds shifted, and moonlight spilled through the gaping window. In that pale glow, Han Li saw what he had not expected—Chen Xing stood just a few paces away, his sword raised.

The floor was littered with bodies. Blood soaked the planks.

Han Li pushed Gu Wanniang forward, using her as cover, and darted for the window. But before he could leap, a chill swept over him. A sword plunged from above through the roof, striking deep into his right shoulder. His cry tore through the chaos. The ceiling cracked open, and from it descended a figure—swift as a hawk.

Li Yi.

He landed like a falling star, his sword gleaming silver in the moonlight. With a single blow, he struck Han Li at the neck. The blade in Han Li’s hand slipped, slicing across Gu Wanniang’s back as he shoved her forward. The sharp steel tore through silk and brocade, revealing a streak of pale skin—snow-bright in the moonlight.

Before she could react, Li Yi’s cloak swept through the air. He had already unfastened it mid-strike, letting it fall over her shoulders like a cloud. The soft fabric enclosed her completely, shielding her from every gaze.

The metallic clang of the fallen blade broke the silence. Han Li collapsed.

Gu Wanniang stood trembling, her pulse racing, torn between terror and disbelief. She lifted her gaze. The moonlight poured through the broken roof, illuminating the young man before her. His face, calm and distant, was almost too beautiful—his expression sharp, yet filled with something unspoken. His foot still pressed lightly upon Han Li’s neck.

For an instant, she forgot the blood, the danger, the screams. All she saw was him—aloof and radiant as if descended from the heavens.

The door burst open again. Chen Xing and the others rushed in, stunned by the sight before them. They had barely registered Li Yi’s arrival before realizing Han Li had already been subdued.

Outside, a sudden tremor rocked the ship. The shore erupted in noise. Captain He’s ambush had been discovered. Though she had arranged for Li Yi’s meeting in secret, her caution had gone awry. Her signal bonfire had burned too long. The Dingsheng Army scouts had found her unconscious and revived her with antidote. Realizing the trap, she led her troops back to the river—only to encounter the Zhenxi Army forces under Old Bao and Xie Chang’er.

Chaos broke out. Hooks clanged against the Gu family ship as the Zhenxi soldiers tried to drag it ashore. The Dingsheng Army retaliated fiercely, cutting the ropes. Arrows streaked through the dark sky. The two sides collided, blades flashing beneath the moon.

At last, Captain He boarded the Gu family ship herself.

Inside the bloodstained cabin, she saw Li Yi standing with Han Li pinned beneath his boot. Her eyes glimmered with calm amusement. “I concede this round, Your Highness wins,” she said lightly, her voice as cold and clear as moonlight.

Li Yi’s mouth curved faintly. “Thank you.”

Without further comment, she signaled Chen Xing. He raised a horn to his lips and blew sharply. The sound cut through the night.

Instantly, the Dingsheng Army began retreating in formation—clean, precise, disciplined. Old Bao watched their withdrawal, bruised and panting but grinning with relief. The Zhenxi men tied Han Li like a bundled rice dumpling and dragged him aside. Li Yi stepped off him at last.

He moved to the deck. The soldiers had already laid a plank from the ship to the shore. Captain He crossed it, her silhouette framed by torchlight. Just then, hooves thundered. The crowd parted. A white horse galloped through.

Cui Lin.

He wore no armor, only fine silver mail under a dark crane-feather cloak that shimmered faintly blue under the flames. Dismounting, he smiled and draped his cloak over Captain He’s shoulders, fastening it carefully. She made to tie it herself, but her hand brushed his. He said something softly—too low for Li Yi to hear. She laughed, light and clear. Then they mounted their horses, riding away together into the dawn mist.

Li Yi stood silently on the deck, watching them vanish into the distance, a strange heaviness tightening in his chest. When he turned back, Old Bao had already finished clearing the scene.

Gu Wanniang approached, bowing deeply. Her voice trembled with sincerity. “Your Highness, I will never forget your grace. When I return to the capital, my father and our elders will thank you properly.”

Li Yi barely heard her words. “Miss Gu,” he replied politely, “the ship is unfit for travel. Allow me to send an escort to take you safely back to Bingzhou.”

She agreed. Her maid, Qiu Cui, still shaking, was carried ashore. Gu Wanniang crossed the plank alone, steady and composed. Before stepping into the waiting oxcart, she turned.

He was still there, standing on the bow, the moonlight painting him in silver.

The Gu family had long served the empire; even a sheltered daughter like her had heard of him—the imperial grandson who crushed Sun Jing’s rebellion, the young commander who led armies before twenty. Yet tonight, as she looked at him beneath the cold moon, he seemed distant, almost melancholy. “He commands an army,” she thought. “What could trouble such a man?”

Then she turned away, climbing into the cart.

Li Yi remained by the railing, staring at the fading moon. The stillness settled again.

By dawn, he returned to camp. Han Li was alive but defiant, the tiger talisman nowhere to be found. Torture yielded nothing. Pei Yuan fretted—without the talisman, Jianzhou would slip from their grasp.

After Pei left, Li Yi sat for a long while in thought. Then an idea flickered in his mind. He summoned Xie Chang’er.

“Do you remember the Dingsheng Army’s messenger from yesterday?”

“The one named Taozi?”

“Find her. Tell her I’ll be by the river this afternoon. Ask Captain He to meet me there—alone.”

Xie Chang’er frowned. “That’s reckless, Your Highness. She won’t come.”

“Just tell her I’ll be waiting.”

And so Xie Chang’er rode off.

He found Taozi drying herbs under the morning sun. When he relayed the message, she scowled. “He couldn’t even write a letter? Just a message?”

Xie Chang’er flushed, stammering. “I—I did advise Shiqilang, but he insisted…”

“Don’t call me Miss Tao,” she snapped. “Just Taozi.”

“Yes, Miss Taozi.”

Her annoyance melted into laughter. “Wait here.” She disappeared into the camp and returned much later to find him still standing in the same spot, drenched in sweat.

“Why are you still here?” she asked.

“I didn’t want to block the sunlight. Your herbs might not dry properly.”

Her expression softened. “You’re an honest one,” she said, smiling. “Go back. Our captain knows.”

He hesitated. “But will she come?”

“That,” Taozi said, rolling her eyes, “is not something you need to ask.”

Before he left, she called out again and tossed him a stalk of green cane. “For your ride back,” she said with a laugh like windchimes.

He caught it, smiling despite himself. It was sweet and crisp, like sugar on his tongue.

That afternoon, Li Yi rode to the river alone. The reeds swayed like silver in the wind, the autumn sun glinting off the ripples. For a while, there was only silence.

Then came the sound of hooves. She arrived—Captain He, atop her white horse, Xiaobai.

They dismounted. Their horses immediately clashed, hooves striking, teeth bared. It took both of them to separate the beasts. Annoyed, Li Yi bound his stallion farther away.

The sight of Xiaobai made him recall how docile it had been with Cui Lin’s horse the night before. Bitterness flickered in his chest.

“Where’s the tiger talisman?” he asked.

She drew it from her sleeve and waved it lightly before his eyes. “Here.”

He wasn’t surprised—but her calm confidence unsettled him.

She slipped it back into her sleeve. “Why summon me here?”

He smiled faintly. “To take it from you—while no one’s watching.”

“Then try.” Her gaze was steady, her tone teasing. The sunlight in her eyes was sharp as water.

He lunged; she met him head-on. Their movements blurred—seven, eight exchanges in a heartbeat. He caught her sleeve; she twisted free. Suddenly, a chill touched her throat—his hand held a small bamboo tube against her skin.

It was the same poisoned needle she had once used on him.

“So stab me,” she said coldly.

He froze. Her eyes blazed—bright, furious, and alive. Something within him faltered. The needle didn’t move.

In that instant of hesitation, her wrist flicked. A tiny arrow shot from her sleeve, grazing his brow. He retaliated swiftly, twisting her arm and pulling her off balance. She stumbled, nearly tumbling into the river. His arm shot out, catching her around the waist.

Her body was light, her waist narrow—warm through the thin layers of fabric. For a heartbeat, neither moved. Then she pushed him away, cheeks flushed, and turned aside.

His temper flared. “You risk your life for your master so easily?”

“Of course,” she said without hesitation. “He’s been kind to me.”

The casual warmth in her voice made something snap inside him. “If I tell your master that you and I have lived together—shared food and shelter—what would he think?”

She turned sharply, her face paling, then hardening. Her voice trembled only slightly. “Your Highness is not that cruel.” Then, with sudden calm, she added, “If I am your concubine and have betrayed you, I will kill myself to prove my innocence. I know Your Highness would not demand that of me.”

Without even turning back or even glancing at him, she turned and walked straight towards Xiaobai. Li Yi had never expected her to say such a thing. It was like thunderbolts striking his head, his ears ringing. He watched her walk away, wanting to call her back for more clarification, but he knew he hadn't misheard. He was in disbelief, feeling as if he had been kicked into a well again, his whole body cold.

Previous/Next