When Li Shuang awoke, the world was dim, the air heavy with medicine and candle wax. Beside her bed sat Qin Lan, his uniform rumpled, eyes shadowed with fatigue.
The moment her gaze met his, his composure faltered. “General,” he murmured, voice roughened by sleepless nights.
She blinked sluggishly, then closed her eyes again, her temples pulsing with confusion. “Where… am I?” Her hand rose weakly to her forehead as fragments of memory swirled—flashes of blood, the cave, the black armor gleaming in the dark.
By the time her thoughts began to take shape, Qin Lan had already summoned the military physician. The room soon filled with anxious officers, their worried chatter clashing like steel until the physician barked for silence and shooed them all away.
“General’s body is no longer in danger,” the physician said after checking her pulse. “A few days’ rest will suffice. But…” He frowned. “Five days and nights without food or water, yet you awaken merely qi-deficient—General, Heaven truly favors you.”
Li Shuang’s lips twitched. She had never believed in heaven’s favor.
“Five… days?” Her voice trembled as she sat up with effort. “I was unconscious for five days?”
“More than five,” the physician confirmed.
She froze. Five days lost to darkness. Qin Lan’s face wavered before her eyes as he hesitated, reaching to steady her. “General, please—”
“Where is the man in black armor?” she interrupted, voice sharpened by fear. “Where is he?”
Silence. Qin Lan’s expression darkened. After a pause, he said quietly, “When we entered the stone cave, we found only you—unconscious, covered with ermine fur. There was no one else.”
He wasn’t there.
Li Shuang’s heartbeat stumbled. She remembered him—dragging her from the mud, taking the poison meant for her, and then… being seized by that man, Wu Yin.
Was he still alive? Or had Wu Yin ended him?
A sudden restlessness surged through her. “We must investigate!” She pushed herself up, but the physician caught her arm just in time. The world tilted; dizziness clouded her vision.
“General, your qi is drained. You mustn’t strain yourself,” the physician warned.
Qin Lan stepped forward. “What does the General wish to investigate? Allow this subordinate to act on your behalf.”
Li Shuang closed her eyes briefly, regaining her composure. “Where is Jin’an? Bring him to me. I have questions.”
Qin Lan hesitated again. “The soldier Jin’an vanished five days ago. We’ve found no trace.”
“Gone?” Li Shuang’s voice dropped. “Have you searched outside the camp?”
“Inside and beyond Lu City,” Qin Lan said grimly. “Even the forest and the underground chamber. No trace. Jin’an is skilled—his disappearance caused no alarm. It appears… he left by choice.”
Left of his own accord? To follow Wu Yin, perhaps—to save that man? The thought tightened her chest.
“This must be investigated,” she said firmly. “Those who set that trap meant to harm the Eastern Palace. Treason cannot go unanswered. Find them. No matter where they flee, they must not leave Great Jin alive.”
“Yes, General.”
“One more thing,” she added, her tone low. “Send scouts southward. Search for rumors of gu sorcery.”
Qin Lan blinked. “Gu sorcery?”
“Yes. And if any sect practices it—especially those capable of turning men into gu-people—I want to know.”
After a deep bow, Qin Lan departed.
Li Shuang’s gaze lingered on the tent flap as it swayed in the wind. Her hand curled into a fist. She would find the man in black armor. He had saved her time and again—first from bandits in the north, then from the collapsing chamber. Even when they had stood on opposite sides, he had shielded her from death.
Her arm throbbed. Beneath the bandage lay the wound Wu Yin had left. She remembered the Crown Prince too—how he had escaped the swamp because she had forced him to go.
“How fares the Eastern Palace?” she asked.
“The Crown Prince returned unharmed,” the physician replied. “But he departed for the capital three days ago.”
Li Shuang’s eyes snapped open. “He returned to the capital?” Her brows knit tightly. “Has something happened?”
The physician sighed, his tone heavy. “His Majesty’s health has worsened.”
The Emperor’s illness—Great Jin’s crisis. The empire’s fate hung by a single breath.
As snow whispered against the windows, Li Shuang’s heart grew still. The borderlands were fragile. One shift in the capital could summon wolves to their gates.
And now, with the black-armored man gone, they would face the winter alone.
Li Shuang sat in silence, her eyes glinting like frost. She could only pray that Sima Yang would return—soon enough to claim the throne, stabilize Great Jin, and safeguard the General’s Manor.
Her gaze dropped to her arm. Beneath the linen and scars, at least she had managed to save him once. Against the vast weight of the empire, all else seemed momentarily insignificant.
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