Though she had reassured Jin’an with a soft smile, Li Shuang knew her own body’s condition better than anyone.
From the side, Lu Xin couldn’t help but sigh. “General, you must take better care of yourself.”
Her tone was gentle, but her words carried weight. Li Shuang didn’t need her to elaborate; she had heard the same advice countless times from military physicians. Each injury, each illness, left behind its silent warning—but she had no choice but to ignore them.
Life in the army was never easy. During campaigns, there was no room for weakness. When the troops crossed freezing rivers or marched through blizzards, how could she— their commanding general—hesitate or demand special care just because she was a woman?
How could she lead if she asked to be carried?
Li Shuang merely nodded, a perfunctory gesture that made Lu Xin press her lips together, swallowing the rest of what she wanted to say. “If you’re still in pain tomorrow,” she said instead, “I’ll come again to apply more acupuncture.”
“Mm.”
“It will still hurt tomorrow?” Jin’an frowned, brows knitted tightly in concern.
Li Shuang reached out, ruffling his hair with a faint smile. “She’s only saying that just in case. It usually doesn’t hurt—and even if it does, Miss Lu can certainly make it go away.” Her tone carried the warmth of an elder trying to soothe a child, though Jin’an sensed the comfort was meant more for him than for truth’s sake.
“Well then,” she continued, glancing toward the dimming sky, “it’s getting late. I need to change and attend the banquet at the City Defender’s mansion. You should all go now.”
Lu Xin obeyed, leaving the tent quietly. Jin’an followed her out, where Ji Ran still stood guard. Lu Xin intended to exchange a few polite words with him, but Jin’an tugged at her sleeve, pulling her aside.
“Miss Lu.”
The formality startled her. “Ah—you can call me sister, you know…”
Jin’an ignored that. “What should the General be careful about? How does she take care of herself?”
Such an insistent little voice—Lu Xin could only answer out of instinct. “Well, she should stay warm, avoid cold air, don’t eat chilled food, don’t touch ice water, and make sure to rest well… don’t stay up late.”
Jin’an repeated each instruction silently, his eyes serious. “What else?”
“That’s about it.” Lu Xin hesitated, then added softly, “You really care for the General, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Jin’an said without hesitation. “I like her.”
Lu Xin blinked, momentarily speechless. Before she could respond, Ji Ran approached. “What are you two talking about?”
Lu Xin smiled faintly. “Nothing much. Brother Ji, it seems every child in your Changfeng Camp adores the General—” She turned her head, only to realize the boy had vanished into the snow.
Ji Ran chuckled. “That one? Jin’an? The General picked him up herself. He’s very attached to her.” He paused, glancing at Lu Xin. “You’ve finished tending to the General? Shall I escort you back?”
“Thank you, Brother Ji.” She smiled politely but after a few steps added, “Ah, I think I left soup simmering at home... If you don’t mind—”
“There’s a banquet tonight at the City Defender’s mansion,” Ji Ran interrupted mildly. “I’ll be accompanying the General.”
“Oh…” Lu Xin’s words faded, her breath vanishing into the frosty air.
By nightfall, the sky had turned white with snow. Flakes whirled through the streets of Lu City, blanketing the rooftops and lanterns, but not even the heavy snowfall could stifle the lively music and laughter from within the City Defender’s mansion.
Li Shuang attended with the commanders of the Changfeng Camp. The banquet was extravagant—wine flowed freely, and courtiers surrounded the Crown Prince with endless flattery.
Li Shuang smiled politely, her expression calm and distant. Inside, however, she silently counted the hours, waiting for the endless chatter to end.
This—this very atmosphere—was what she had left behind when she volunteered to guard the border. The court’s endless formalities, the masks people wore, the careful dance of words—how much simpler life had been on the battlefield, where loyalty and courage spoke louder than any feast.
When the final round of toasts began, the Crown Prince rose, cup in hand, and praised the valor of the border troops. His speech was warm, practiced, and full of promise. Applause followed.
As soon as decorum allowed, Li Shuang quietly excused herself, nodding to Qin Lan to cover for her. She stepped out into the garden, where the cold air bit her cheeks and the hush of snow wrapped the world in silver silence.
For the first time that night, she could breathe.
The soft crunch of snow under her boots was the only sound—until a shadow moved beside her.
A paper fan suddenly appeared above her head, catching the falling snowflakes before they touched her hair. For an instant, Li Shuang’s heart lurched—she thought of that mysterious black-armored man whose image haunted her thoughts. But when she turned, she was met instead with Sima Yang’s smiling face.
“I knew you couldn’t endure that banquet for long,” he said lightly. “I just didn’t expect you to last this long tonight.”
Li Shuang immediately stepped back and bowed. “Your High—”
Before she could finish, Sima Yang reached out and caught her arm. “Shuang’er…” His sigh came out soft, almost pained. “Must you always be so distant from me?”
His hand was cool, the snow melting against his skin. Li Shuang kept her gaze lowered, her silence the only shield she had left.
“Three years ago, when you requested to be sent to the northern frontier, I thought it was just for a year. I thought you’d win your merit and return to the capital.” His voice softened. “Who could have known you’d stay—never coming back, never once visiting home? Even if you’re still angry at me… hasn’t it been long enough?”
Li Shuang drew in a slow breath, then sank to one knee in salute. Her tone was steady, formal, as though reciting before a commander: “Your subject dares not harbor anger toward Your Highness. To defend the frontier for Great Jin and His Majesty is my honor. I love this land and the people who dwell here. That is all.”
Sima Yang looked down at her kneeling figure, snow clinging to her armor and hair. His gaze softened, yet his voice lowered, trembling with restrained emotion. “Attached to the border city and its people? Li Shuang… do you truly have no feelings left for me?”
The snow fell heavier now, thick enough to muffle the world into silence.
Li Shuang’s expression didn’t change. “Your Highness and this subject share only the bond of ruler and servant. The grace I have received, I will remember all my life.”
“Shuang’er,” he whispered, bending down to grasp her arm, his voice raw with something he could no longer hide. “When I heard the Western Rong pressed the border and Changfeng Camp was in danger, I crossed thousands of li not for the sake of politics—nor for this so-called ruler-subject duty.”
Li Shuang’s eyelashes trembled faintly.
Sima Yang truly knew her—he knew exactly which words could soften her heart. But…
A sudden cold glint cut across the corner of her eye. Her instincts flared. “Your Highness, look out!” she cried, pulling Sima Yang behind her in one swift motion. Her boot swept the ground, sending a flurry of snow into the air to blind the attacker’s vision.
Through the swirling snow, a long sword sliced forward with deadly precision—straight toward Sima Yang’s chest.
Li Shuang turned sharply, meeting the strike with her blade. Steel clashed in a burst of sparks. She parried twice, but the force behind each blow was overwhelming. She realized in an instant—this opponent’s martial skill far surpassed her own. The next strike would pierce through her defense.
Without hesitation, Li Shuang stepped in front of Sima Yang, using her own body as a shield.
Yet just as the blade was about to strike, it halted midair. The tip twisted away and slammed into a stone pillar with a dull thud, embedding three inches deep—a mark of frightening strength.
The snow settled. The shadowy figure’s outline became clear.
Li Shuang’s eyes narrowed. “It’s you?”
The black-armored man.
He was trying to kill the Crown Prince?
“Why do you protect him?” The man’s voice was colder than the wind itself, laced with anger and hurt.
The question struck Li Shuang off guard. She turned, catching Sima Yang’s tense expression. He hadn’t grasped what had just happened, but the look in his eyes darkened as he studied the black-armored man.
He’d heard rumors—of the masked warrior who had single-handedly driven back the Western Rong army. Now, seeing how the man spoke to Li Shuang, something in Sima Yang’s chest twisted. Were they… familiar?
“Why would you attack Great Jin’s Crown Prince?” Li Shuang’s voice trembled with anger. “Do you realize what crime that is?”
He said nothing.
Li Shuang’s pulse quickened. Had she not been there, Sima Yang would already be dead. And this man—this reckless, untamed man—had once slain three Western Rong generals as if it were nothing. He never thought about consequences.
“I don’t know,” Jin’an said quietly, his crimson eyes burning behind the mask. “I only know he was going to hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Li Shuang’s heart trembled.
Behind her, Sima Yang’s gaze hardened.
Li Shuang sighed softly. “He wasn’t hurting me.”
Her gentle defense only deepened the confusion in Jin’an’s eyes. The fire in them dimmed, replaced by something fragile. “Do you… like him?”
Li Shuang froze. “I—”
Before she could finish, Sima Yang cut in sharply, “So you’re the warrior who broke through the Western Rong lines?”
But Jin’an didn’t even glance at him. His voice pressed again, soft yet unyielding: “Do you like him?”
“I am his subject,” Li Shuang answered, forcing her voice to stay calm. “It is my duty to protect him.”
Jin’an’s voice turned quiet, almost aching. “If I kill him, will you be heartbroken? Will you hate me?”
Li Shuang couldn’t speak. How could she explain? His world was simple—love or hate, protect or destroy. There was no space for politics, duty, or the tangled past that bound her to Sima Yang.
But there was no time to reason. The guards outside, hearing the clash, rushed toward the garden.
Li Shuang met Jin’an’s gaze and spoke gently, almost pleadingly, “Go. Now.”
The faint light in his crimson eyes dimmed completely. No pain—just a weight that seemed to crush his breath.
He felt… betrayed.
The guards’ arrows whistled through the air, three at once. Jin’an didn’t even flinch. He caught one in his hand, its shaft trembling against his palm. His gaze swept toward the direction of the bowmen, cold and sharp as frost.
Li Shuang’s voice rang out urgently, “Stop!”
He looked at her once—then let the arrow slip from his fingers. With a swirl of snow, his figure vanished into the storm.
Li Shuang stared at the empty space where he had stood, her expression unreadable.
Sima Yang watched her quietly. When the guards came forward for orders, he waved them off. “You won’t catch him,” he said flatly.
But what unsettled him most was not the attacker’s escape—
It was that from beginning to end, Li Shuang had never once looked back at him.
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