When Tanmoluojia returned to the tent, candlelight flickered. Yaoying remained motionless at the other end of the long table, seemingly asleep.

He didn’t lie down but sat in meditation. After a while, he felt a gaze fixed steadily upon him in the dim candlelight and raised his eyes to look.

Yaoying had sat up at some point, her long hair loose, arms wrapped around her knees, head resting on her arms as she stared at him blankly, tears in her eyes.

The candlelight illuminated her pale face. At this moment, she wasn’t the spirited Princess Wenzhao from earlier that day, but just a fragile, sorrowful young woman.

Tanmoluojia was stunned briefly, remembering Yaoying’s distracted smile when he had returned to the tent.

She had something on her mind.

Yaoying noticed his gaze and came to her senses, wiping her eyes, her nose slightly red.

“Bad dream?”

Tanmoluojia asked, his voice gentler than he’d intended.

Yaoying was about to lie back down but paused at his gentle tone, making a soft sound of acknowledgment. “Today Yang Nianxiang and the others told me my brother’s martial arts are ruined, that he can no longer use those golden hammers… He came looking for me before his wounds had healed… I don’t know where he is now… I just dreamed of him… he…”

Li Xuanzhen was highly skilled in martial arts and had guards protecting him, yet he was still so badly wounded. Yang Nianxiang and the others had barely survived – one could imagine how strict the Northern Rong’s blockade was. With Li Zhongqian severely wounded and unable to speak coherently, how much hardship must he have endured trying to break through the blockade to find her?

No matter how much hardship, Li Zhongqian would never turn back without finding her – that’s how stubborn he was.

Since childhood, he had never cared about Li De’s suppression and suspicion, but he couldn’t bear to see her suffer… He had tried to assassinate Li De in public, directly tearing away the facade of father-son and ruler-subject relationships. He cared for nothing anymore, including his own life.

Yaoying’s voice trembled as she couldn’t continue. In the flickering candlelight, her eyes glistened with tears that threatened to overflow.

The scripture Tanmoluojia had been reciting in his mind became blurred, replaced by the sound of falling teardrops.

One by one, rippling outward.

She should smile more – when she smiled, she was radiantly beautiful, like the Pure Land described in sutras where golden sand covers the ground and Buddhist temples manifest in trees, where wondrous heavenly flowers fall in colorful profusion, and all things emit light.

Tanmoluojia looked at Yaoying and said softly: “What we think of by day appears in dreams by night – it’s just a dream. The Princess and her brother share deep sibling affection; he will surely turn misfortune to fortune and remain safe and sound.”

His voice was cool and clear, devoid of emotion, yet somehow had the power to comfort hearts.

Yaoying made a soft sound of agreement and smiled, shaking her head as the tears in her eyes receded.

“The General is right – it was just a dream. Brother will surely be safe. I will find him and reunite with him!”

She let out a long breath, speaking with determination.

They fell silent, and Yaoying lay back down, her breathing gradually becoming even. Tanmoluojia closed his eyes and resumed his meditation.

Soon, there was a rustling sound beside the long table.

Tanmoluojia opened his eyes.

Yaoying, supporting herself with both hands, crept around the long table and carefully crawled to his side, grabbing the felt blanket to wrap around herself.

Tanmoluojia looked down at her.

She had moved very close to him, with only half a foot between them, her blanket covering the corner of his robe.

His gaze was frost-cold, without reproach but carrying an imposing pressure. Yaoying felt somewhat embarrassed and picked up a book, saying softly: “General, I really can’t sleep – I keep having dreams when I do… May I sit here? I’d like to read some documents before sleeping.”

Tanmoluojia made no sound but gave a slight nod, closing his eyes.

Yaoying laughed softly and bent her head to read the book.

The tent grew quiet, one meditating with closed eyes, the other wrapped in a blanket reading documents, with only the soft rustle of paper breaking the silence.

The tent was filled with hazy candlelight.

Tanmoluojia silently recited scriptures, finishing the chapter “Karma of Beings in Jambudvipa” when he suddenly felt something gently press against his arm.

He started and opened his eyes.

The candle hadn’t yet gone out. In the interplay of light and shadow, Yaoying had fallen against him face-down, eyes closed, long lashes trembling slightly, deep in sleep, the open book still in her hand.

Tanmoluojia didn’t move.

With a soft thud, the book slipped from Yaoying’s hand and fell. She seemed startled awake, making an unclear murmur, reaching up to grasp Tanmoluojia’s sleeve. She nestled against his arm, finding a comfortable position as her breathing became deep and steady.

Tanmoluojia remained perfectly still, not pushing her away, his jade eyes watching the quietly burning candle on the table.

After an unknown time, the candlestick emitted a wisp of smoke and the flame went out.

Yaoying stirred, her body sliding downward.

Tanmoluojia, still silent, raised his arm to catch her.

Yaoying fell into his embrace, now in an even more comfortable position. Unconsciously, she moved forward slightly, her body pressing against his.

A faint fragrance emanated from her, lingering in the air.

Tanmoluojia lowered his gaze, pulling up the fallen blanket to her chin, and covering her exposed shoulders.

As his fingers brushed her cheek, they paused.

Tears seemed to glisten by her eyelashes.

He curled his fingers, moving them bit by bit toward her eyes, wanting to brush away those tears.

A tiny crackling sound came from the charcoal fire. Her expression was peaceful, her brows relaxed, sleeping soundly.

Tanmoluojia withdrew his fingers and continued reciting scriptures.

…

When Li Xuanzhen awoke, it was already dawn. Light filtered into the felt tent, its shifting rays revealing the rough outlines of the tent’s contents.

Several stacked large chests, a charcoal brazier burning red-hot, hanging saddles, bows, and arrows, quivers, several animals hides, a long table filled with leather scrolls, a small table with messily arranged bowls and teapots, a plate with half-eaten hard naan bread…

Li Xuanzhen looked around, his gaze finally stopping on two figures by the long table, suddenly becoming fully alert.

The man was tall and lean, his military dress outlining his muscular frame. Though seated, he still emanated a steady presence. A woman with loose hair slept using his leg as a pillow, eyes closed in deep sleep, cheeks flushed, body curled up, pressed close against him. He sat motionless, looking down at the sleeping woman with a serene expression.

Li Xuanzhen’s breathing quickened.

The man raised his eyes, their gazes meeting – one cool and clear, one dark and gloomy, like clashing blades spraying frost.

Li Xuanzhen didn’t recognize this scarred man, but he recognized the woman lying against him – in this world, besides Li Zhongqian, when had Li Yaoying ever been so intimate with another man?

When she rode through the streets, richly dressed, skirts flying, young men who admired her would chase her on horseback behind her. She never mocked or ridiculed them, nor did she play coy games with them, but she had never responded to any young man’s affections either.

Such a woman, to survive, had thrown away her dignity and self-respect, publicly entangling herself with a monk… Every time he heard foreigners discussing Princess Wenzhao and the khanate’s Buddha’s Son’s romantic stories in vulgar tones, speculating about what methods she used to seduce the Buddha’s Son, it was like a knife twisting in Li Xuanzhen’s heart. He had to use all his strength to resist the urge to tear their mouths apart.

He dared not think too deeply about what Yaoying had sacrificed to survive, only telling himself repeatedly that he and Li Zhongqian would rescue her and help her forget this experience.

Now, seeing Yaoying sleeping so trustingly against a man, beyond the wild joy of finding her safe, Li Xuanzhen was forced to face a bloody reality: all this was caused by Li De and himself.

He had sent her to the Yelu tribal chief’s bed, causing her to be coveted by Haidu Aling, drifting ten thousand li away, enduring endless hardships.

Li Xuanzhen’s whole body trembled as he coughed violently as if trying to cough up his heart, liver, and lungs.

Perhaps only this could relieve the pain permeating his internal organs.

The violent coughing woke the sleeping Yaoying. She sat up, confused for a moment, and then her pupils dilated as she quickly scrambled to Li Xuanzhen’s side.

“Li Xuanzhen, where is my brother? How did his golden hammers end up in your hands?”

Her hair was disheveled, with pressure marks still on her cheeks. Her gaze at him was cold, disgusted, wary, and anxious – anxious for Li Zhongqian.

Li Xuanzhen’s brows furrowed in pain as he said gently: “Don’t worry, he’s still alive…”

“Where is he?”

The pain in his body intensified as Li Xuanzhen trembled all over. “He might be in the Northern Rong’s royal tent…”

A chill ran up Yaoying’s spine: “The Northern Rong’s royal tent? Why would he go there?!”

Li Xuanzhen took a breath, fighting through the pain: “The Northern Rong blocked all news, we didn’t know… didn’t know where you were… thought you were still with the Northern Rong… found Yizhou… later, we planned to go to the khanate, but something happened on the way…”

The brothers had infiltrated the Northern Rong army, thinking they could reach the khanate smoothly, but en route, Khan Wakhan suddenly changed direction, the troops stopped, and slaves were sent to serve the nobles in the royal tent.

During this time, Li Xuanzhen met several familiar faces secretly infiltrating the Northern Rong – guards sent by Li De to persuade him to return to the Central Plains.

Li Xuanzhen firmly dismissed the guards, but they discovered Li Zhongqian and tried to kill him. The next day, they exposed their identities and leaked news of Li Zhongqian’s presence among the Northern Rong, causing both Li Xuanzhen and Li Zhongqian to be hunted.

Fortunately, Haidu Aling wasn’t there at the time, and his followers hadn’t acted. They were being pursued by Khan Wakhan’s men.

“We fled to the Northern Rong’s royal tent and met several Han people. They were spies from Yang Qian’s volunteer army. When I heard Haidu Aling had returned, I entrusted Li Zhongqian to them, asking them to hide him somewhere safe first… I used Li Zhongqian’s golden hammers to draw away the pursuers… Later I met Yang Nianxiang…”

There were too many pursuers; he had escaped death several times and was grateful he hadn’t brought Li Zhongqian along, or neither would have escaped. Recently he had met Yang Nianxiang, who carried secret messages and was also being pursued by the Northern Rong. As fellow Han people in desperate circumstances, they fled together. Li Xuanzhen gradually learned Yang Nianxiang’s identity, discovered they were returning from the Central Plains to meet Li Yaoying at A’le’s tribe, and was overjoyed to travel with them.

Li Xuanzhen haltingly recounted his experiences over the past half year, his tone sincere.

But Yaoying listened with deeply furrowed brows.

To her ears, Li Xuanzhen’s account was utterly incomprehensible.

From the first sentence, she couldn’t understand.

How could Li Zhongqian have partnered with Li Xuanzhen to go to Yizhou?

How could Li Xuanzhen risk his life to draw away pursuers for Li Zhongqian’s safety?

Hadn’t he abandoned his position as Crown Prince and left the Central Plains for Zhu Lüyun? Why didn’t he go directly to find Zhu Lüyun, instead of traveling with Li Zhongqian? And after finding Zhu Lüyun, why did he still follow Li Zhongqian to the khanate?

She heard Li Xuanzhen’s account clearly, but she didn’t believe a word of it.

She looked at Li Xuanzhen, suspecting his severe wounds had given him a delirious fever. “Why would you help my brother?”

Li Xuanzhen smiled bitterly, his phoenix eyes staring straight at her, voice hoarse: “For you, Ah Yue.”

At these words, the tent fell silent for a moment.

Yaoying’s brows furrowed.

Li Xuanzhen’s face couldn’t hide its bitterness. “Ah Yue, you don’t believe me?”

After a long silence, Yaoying’s lips curled: “Your Highness, if you were in my place, would you believe it?”

He had always wanted Li Zhongqian dead, tacitly approving Wei Ming’s training of assassins – how could he risk his life to protect Li Zhongqian?

Li Xuanzhen’s body convulsed with pain, his lips trembling: “Ah Yue, I did indeed try to harm Li Zhongqian many times… but I’ve never lied to you… Once Li Zhongqian’s identity was exposed, the Northern Rong would surely capture him to threaten you, so I had to protect him.”

Yaoying remained silent.

Li Xuanzhen indeed wasn’t the type to lie to her. He was gloomy and mercurial and had harmed Li Zhongqian several times in front of her without hesitation, but he wouldn’t go to such lengths to tell such an absurd lie.

He would disdain to do so.

“Ah Yue…”

“Don’t call me that. Ah Yue died long ago.”

Yaoying cut off Li Xuanzhen’s words.

Li Xuanzhen was covered in sweat, shaking more and more violently, his teeth chattering. “Alright… I won’t call you that… Don’t worry, Li Zhongqian is safe. The Northern Rong’s royal tent is in the rear. After I drew away the pursuers, he would go with those spies to take a detour through Gaochang, then to the khanate – that route is safer… He might have reached Gaochang by now…”

He stared at Yaoying, his gaze fixed.

“Ah Yue, don’t be afraid, you won’t suffer anymore… I’ll take you home…”

Yaoying’s face was expressionless as she tried to analyze which parts of Li Xuanzhen’s jumbled words were most credible.

Had Li Zhongqian really escaped to safety?

Each of his sentences sounded true individually, but together they became delirious ramblings.

If he wasn’t lying, she needed to quickly write to Yang Qian and Yuchi Damo, asking them to send troops to assist Li Zhongqian.

Emotions played across Yaoying’s face.

Li Xuanzhen’s breathing became increasingly rapid as he suddenly sat up, gripping her wrist tightly.

“Trust me…”

Before Yaoying could react, a gloved hand reached over from beside her. Two fingers lightly pressed, and Li Xuanzhen’s strength drained away as he released her hand and fell back onto the blanket.

His phoenix eyes widened as he looked at Tanmoluojia, who had appeared beside Yaoying at some point.

“You’re from the khanate… tell your Buddha’s Son, I know where the Northern Rong’s main forces are… my Great Wei can send troops to attack the Northern Rong…”

He struggled to sit up again despite his reopening wounds, meeting Tanmoluojia’s gaze.

“On one condition… the khanate must agree to immediately let Princess Wenzhao return home.”