Chapter 8: Li Yi’s Midnight Escape and Captain He’s Trap

 

Li Yi removed General Xiao Pei’s armor, changed into light clothes, and silently slit open the bottom of the tent with a dagger before slipping out into the night.

The army camp was alive with the sound of gongs and drums, every corner tightly guarded. Yet Li Yi, the most skilled scout in the Zhenxi Army, moved like shadow and mist. His steps were silent, his breath controlled, leaving no trace behind. Before long, he had passed through most of the camp and arrived behind Captain He’s tent.

Drawing his dagger once more, he sliced open the oilcloth at the rear and slipped inside. A thick candle burned on the table, its flame casting wavering shadows. An open book lay beside it, with half an inkstone of freshly ground ink—but no one was there.

Li Yi’s instincts flared. Something was wrong. He turned to retreat, but a sudden sharp sting pricked his lower back, as light as a mosquito bite. His heart sank. A cold numbness spread from his waist outward, creeping down his limbs until even his fingertips were stiff. His body collapsed to the ground, his mind clear but his limbs useless.

From behind a folding screen, Captain He stepped out slowly, smiling. She had changed into a plain, light robe. Though she still dressed as a man, her hair was tied up high, softening her features into those of a young woman. Under the candlelight, her eyes glimmered like stars—bright, clever, and carrying a teasing glint.

She approached Li Yi leisurely, hands clasped behind her back, and nudged him with the tip of her boot. Then, pulling out a length of tendon rope, she bound his wrists and ankles tightly. Still uneasy, she fetched a thin iron chain and wrapped it several times around his arms, securing him completely.

Picking up Li Yi’s fallen dagger, she pressed the blade against his throat and mocked, “Out so late, General Pei? Did you enjoy bathing in the well last time so much that you came back for another dip?”

They were close enough that Li Yi could see his reflection shimmering in her eyes. Though trapped and helpless, his voice was still easy, almost teasing. “How could I ever forget the kindness of that well? I think of your favor day and night.”

She laughed softly. “Oh, I know. You’ve been thinking of me all this time—plotting to kick me into that same well in revenge. Aren’t you a petty one?”

Though they had met only a handful of times, Li Yi knew well that this young woman was a rare and formidable opponent. Her tone was light and her smile disarming, but her spirit was fierce. His jaw clenched in irritation, yet he still smiled.

“You’ve seen me only a few times, young lady,” he said lightly. “How can you be so sure I’m vindictive? You’re from the Cui family’s Dingsheng Army, an allied force to my Zhenxi Army. Naturally, I’m magnanimous—I wouldn’t take offense.”

The girl chuckled. “Magnanimous with others, perhaps. But not with me. I can see it—you’ll repay every slight.”

At her words, an odd understanding flickered between them. Though they had crossed paths only a few times, each could read the other’s thoughts with uncanny precision. She had fought him several times and had always prevailed, but she knew better than to underestimate him. The dagger at his throat trembled slightly, her grip steady yet alert—one wrong move and she could end him.

Li Yi’s gaze held hers. “Tell me,” he said calmly, “you stole my pearl at Zhilu Hall that day. Could you return it to me?”

Her eyes widened. A flush crept from her pale neck up to her cheeks, blooming like a sudden flame. Anger replaced embarrassment as she pushed the blade closer, the edge grazing his skin. “And what about my hairpin? You stole it, and I haven’t settled that score yet!”

Her sudden reaction puzzled him, but he seized the chance to provoke her further. “If you return my pearl,” he said with a smile, “I’ll gladly return your hairpin.”

She sneered. “You’re in chains, yet you still dare to bargain?”

Li Yi chuckled softly. “Since I’m already a prisoner, why keep that blade so close?”

The candlelight danced along the dagger’s cold edge. He knew it was sharp enough to cut hair, but he showed no fear.

Her voice turned sharp. “And you—why sneak into my tent in the dead of night, dagger in hand? What were you planning?”

Li Yi’s tone shifted suddenly. “You only brought a few followers into Guo Zhi’s army. Did Master Cui permit that?”

Her lips parted. “Master—” She stopped abruptly, realization dawning too late. Li Yi’s faint smile told her she’d given him exactly what he wanted.

She could have tried to cover her slip, but she knew it was pointless. His mind was sharp as a blade—nothing escaped him. Her voice turned cold as winter frost. “How did you guess?”

“If your young master were still in Xiangzhou,” Li Yi replied, “you’d never risk such a move. You only brought a handful of soldiers here and still act without fear. Clearly, your young master must already be near Wangzhou with a full army. That’s why you dare to act so boldly.”

Though she had been seen through, she only smiled faintly. “And what of General Pei? You’re no less daring. I suppose His Highness the Imperial Grandson is stationed in Wangzhou, ready to back you—otherwise you wouldn’t have come into Guo Zhi’s camp so recklessly.”

Li Yi nodded with a faint smile. “His Highness does admire General Cui. Since your young master is nearby, I’d appreciate it if Captain He would take me to see him. His Highness has matters of importance to discuss face-to-face.”

Her tone cooled, every word deliberate. “Our young master is not someone you can meet at will. And if we’re speaking of legitimacy and loyalty—it’s the Crown Prince who stands as the rightful heir, not the Seventeenth Imperial Grandson.”

The late emperor had grown cruel and suspicious in his final years, especially toward meritorious generals. The Cui family’s Dingsheng Army had long harbored resentment, their loyalty to the Li royal clan little more than formality. Though Li Yi bore the banner of the loyalist Zhenxi Army, he was no exception to their disdain. Yet, rank demanded propriety—they still had to acknowledge the Li family’s rule and the Crown Prince’s legitimacy.

Li Yi showed no anger. Instead, he smiled faintly. “Of course,” he said. “Find the Crown Prince, and righteousness will return to its rightful place.”

The moment those words left his mouth, they both recalled that fateful encounter—how a single careless tug had led to her kicking him into the well. Li Yi’s jaw tightened at the memory, while she, remembering it too, looked at him warily.

He laughed lightly. “You’ve got me tied up like this—what could possibly worry you now?”

The girl smiled, eyes glinting. “After all our encounters, I know how dangerous you are. Even bound like this, you make me uneasy.”

The word “heart” had just left her lips when Li Yi suddenly moved.

In an instant, he broke free from the cow-tendon restraints and leaned back, narrowly avoiding the edge of the dagger. The blade in the girl’s hand slashed out swiftly, but Li Yi’s reflexes were faster. He raised his hands—the thin iron chain binding his wrists clashed against the dagger’s sharp edge. After a rapid series of metallic ding-ding sounds, the chain was sliced apart.

His hands were free.

Before she could react, Li Yi seized the girl’s wrist and twisted, wrenching the dagger from her grasp. She retreated two steps and immediately raised her hand, firing several crossbow bolts in rapid succession.

Li Yi flicked his wrist. Something flashed through the air—each arrow was deflected mid-flight, some clattering harmlessly to the ground, others snuffing out the candles with a swish.

Darkness swallowed the tent.

The girl’s vision went black. Then, in the silence, she heard a soft sigh near her ear—a whisper of breath that chilled her spine. Cold fingers gripped her waist; in the next heartbeat, she was disarmed and pinned. Li Yi picked up a cowhide rope and bound her tightly. With a spark, the tinder flared, and the candles reignited.

In an instant, the tables had turned.

Yet the girl showed no anger. She merely gazed at Li Yi, eyes calm and glimmering like water.

Li Yi smiled faintly. “It isn’t polite not to reciprocate,” he said lightly. He lifted the dagger, tracing its cool edge along her slender neck. “Captain He—tell me. Should I carry you out and throw you into the well? Or will you take me to see your Master Cui?”

The girl exhaled softly, her voice almost wistful. “I told you, General—you may be magnanimous toward others. But when it comes to me, your heart overflows with hatred. You never let go of a grudge.”

Li Yi suddenly tensed, as though sensing something. His eyes sharpened. He reached out, pinched her cheek, and forced her mouth open—dislodging a small bamboo tube hidden beneath her tongue. Holding it through his sleeve, he examined it carefully. Inside, several fine steel needles gleamed faintly blue at the tips—poison or anesthetic, he couldn’t tell.

He shook his head and chuckled. “This is well made. I’ll keep it.”

The girl didn’t flinch, even after her trick failed.

“If you’ve got any more devices hidden,” Li Yi said mildly, “take them out now—save me the trouble of searching.”

But before she could respond, footsteps approached outside the tent.

“Captain He!” a soldier’s voice called. “General Guo ordered me to bring you some snacks.”

Li Yi’s expression darkened. The girl’s eyes flickered. She suddenly leaped up—a blade sprang from the tip of her boot, slicing toward his throat.

But Li Yi was faster. He twisted aside just in time. The blade grazed his skin, a near miss that left a faint white line.

He caught her again, pinning her arms, the dagger’s edge pressing against her waist. His voice was a low whisper in her ear. “Send them away.”

The girl frowned, her tone reluctantly composed. “Thank you, General Guo,” she called out. “I can’t change right now. Leave the snacks outside—I’ll come get them shortly.”

The soldier hesitated, then set the tray down. Footsteps receded into the distance.

The moment silence returned, Li Yi pushed the girl to the ground. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled the dagger—the blade struck the candle, plunging the tent into darkness once more.

Then came the whirring sound of countless arrows ripping through the air.

“An ambush!”

Li Yi rolled, shielding the girl as a rain of arrows tore through the canvas. The two ducked behind a wooden chest, breaths ragged in the pitch-black chaos.

The girl’s voice was steady. “Where are your men?”

Li Yi countered, “Where are yours?”

Before she could answer, shouts and footsteps thundered outside. Armed soldiers burst into the tent. Li Yi moved to escape—but his robe snagged on something. In the dark, the girl’s cold voice rang out:

“You broke into my tent and want to leave so easily? Not a chance.”

Li Yi hesitated. Taking her with him would slow him down—but he smiled anyway. “If you take me to see your Master Cui, I’ll take you with me.”

Her voice came, calm and crystalline in the dark: “You must take me away. If you do, he might let you see him. If you don’t, you’ll be his enemy forever—and never see him again.”

Her tone left no room for doubt.

Li Yi sighed, then cut open the side of the tent. He lifted her lightly, carrying her through the slit before slipping out himself.

The night sky was moonless, but starlight glimmered faintly above. Moving in silence, Li Yi led her through the maze of tents, weaving through shadows, pausing at intervals to avoid patrols.

Guo Zhi’s soldiers were relentless—ferocious men sent in layers of ambushes, ready to kill. Li Yi’s skill kept them barely ahead, but danger loomed with every step.

Just as they were nearly cornered, chaos erupted from the northern corner of the camp. Flames leapt into the sky, and frantic shouts echoed: “Fire! Put out the fire!” “The Zhenxi Army is attacking!”

Li Yi glanced at the girl beside him, her eyes glinting in the starlight like those of a cat—alert, mysterious, and impossible to read.

Indeed, she reminded him of a cat from the first time they met. When she’d kicked him into that well, he’d even lied to Old Bao, saying a wildcat had attacked him.

Now, watching her slip silently through the shadows, he thought again—if she truly were a cat, she’d be a cunning one, even the tip of her tail full of schemes.

But hiding a cat in his sleeve would be easy; sneaking a living girl out of an enemy camp—impossible.

Fortunately, the fire was spreading fast. Yet as the cries grew louder, Li Yi finally understood the shouts:

“Put out the fire!” “Zhenxi Army ambush!” “The Zhenxi Army is attacking!”

His expression darkened. “So this is your doing?”

The “kitten” blinked innocently at him. “My people only shouted a few words to shake morale. You’re the one who set the fire, aren’t you? Doesn’t that count as an attack?”

Li Yi was momentarily speechless.

The girl—Xiao Mao—tilted her head, still unbothered. “How exactly do you plan to escape?”

Li Yi shrugged. “The camp’s chaos is enough. I’ll follow you.”

She glared at him. “You didn’t even prepare a horse, did you?”

He grinned. “Why would I? You’d have one ready, wouldn’t you?”

Xiao Mao snorted and strode toward the northwest corner, where the flames burned brightest. Li Yi followed closely, occasionally batting away arrows meant for her. She didn’t thank him.

At last, they reached a secluded edge of the camp. A man awaited them with two horses—it was Chen Xing.

Captain He ordered briskly, “Tell the young master I’ve escaped and am proceeding as planned.”

Chen Xing shot Li Yi a wary look, clasped his fists, and galloped off.

Li Yi barely had time to react before a flash of silver streaked toward him—Xiao Mao’s crossbow bolt. She had already vaulted onto her horse and was racing away in the opposite direction.

Arrows flew from the camp after her. Li Yi sighed and charged in, slicing through a rain of arrows to clear her path. After holding off the soldiers long enough for her to flee, he melted back into the shadows.

Captain He galloped deep into the forest, thinking she’d escaped—until she felt a sudden weight behind her. Someone had landed silently on the saddle.

She reached for her dagger, but a familiar voice stopped her. “It’s me,” Li Yi murmured.

Behind them, the thunder of pursuit grew closer.

Instead of anger, she laughed. “General Pei, you’re so capable. Why are the pursuers still on our heels?”

Li Yi scoffed. “If they hadn’t caught up, would you have taken me with you?”

She said evenly, “If you weren’t so annoying—perhaps.”

Arrows sliced the air, brushing their sleeves. Li Yi grumbled, “All your fault. Who rides a white horse on a night raid?”

The young woman clenched her jaw. “Xiaobai!”

The white horse neighed and reared, almost throwing Li Yi off. But he kept his balance, snatched a handful of arrows from midair, and hurled them back like shooting stars. The air filled with cries—their pursuers fell one after another.

Through the woods they raced, across hills and ridges. By dawn, the forest was quiet. They had escaped.

At the foot of a mountain, a river glittered faintly under the morning mist. The exhausted Captain He dismounted and led her horse to drink. The noble white steed lowered its neck to the water, snorting softly, then began to graze.

Captain He washed her face in silence. Li Yi knelt nearby, drinking a few mouthfuls of water. “This horse is remarkable,” he said lightly. “Without it, we’d never have escaped.”

She gave no reply.

“But,” he added with mock reproach, “you forgot the most important thing—food.”

She turned her head away.

Li Yi chuckled. “If I hadn’t followed you, you’d have been back in your camp by now. No need for dry rations.”

She said coldly, “Two people on one horse can’t run fast. You’d better leave before Guo Zhi’s men catch up.”

Li Yi smiled. “If you’re not afraid, why should I be?” His gaze sharpened. “Give it to me.”

She blinked, feigning innocence. “What?”

“The signal,” he said. “You didn’t come all this way without a way to call your people.”

Her expression remained calm. “I’m just the young master’s maid. Why would anyone come for me?”

“Foxes have nine tails,” Li Yi said dryly. “I don’t believe you don’t have one hidden.”

The girl glared but finally pulled out a small bamboo tube and tossed it on the ground.

Li Yi didn’t move. “Since it’s a signal,” he said, “you send it.”

She stared at him a long moment, then bent to pick it up. Pulling out the plug, she released it—

Bang!

A thick cloud of smoke burst forth, filling the air.

Li Yi cursed under his breath, covering his mouth and nose. When the smoke cleared, she was gone.

He looked around helplessly, then noticed Xiaobai standing nearby, watching him with wet, round eyes, still chewing tender grass.

He stroked its mane gently. “So she left you behind too,” he murmured with a wry smile.

---

Captain He, meanwhile, had already fled through several forests. When she finally saw no sign of pursuit, she exhaled in relief. Exhausted from the sleepless night, she paused to rest. Though she’d lost her horse, she trusted Xiaobai’s cleverness—it would surely find its way home.

Thinking of that troublesome General Pei, her jaw tightened.

Pei Xian had ten sons, and this one—Pei Yuan—served in the Zhenxi Army beside the seventeenth imperial grandson. It was said Pei Xian favored him most. After their encounters, she could see why: the young general possessed both courage and cunning, a rare brilliance.

The annihilation of Yu Liao’s forces had shaken the realm. Yet while the royal Li clan was known for weakness, this “imperial grandson” seemed an exception. Perhaps, she thought, the victories were less his doing—and more the hidden hand of the sharp, smiling man she had just escaped from.

Pei Yuan.

She clenched her fists, his name grating in her mind.

Far away in Wangzhou, Pei Yuan suddenly shivered, an inexplicable chill running down his spine. Old Bao had succeeded in setting Guo Zhi’s camp ablaze the night before. Though the Cui family tried to frame them for the attack, it hadn’t been entirely false—Li Yi had escaped amid the chaos, sending back his safety signal.

Even so, the unease lingered. Pei Yuan frowned, then gave a quiet order: “Double the patrols. No one sleeps tonight. Wangzhou must not fall.”

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