Meng Tinghui and Tang Chen’s departure from the capital was entirely without fanfare.

Before dawn, one thousand Imperial Guards silently escorted two carriages out of the northern gate of the capital city, directly onto the official road leading to the northern regions.

By the Emperor’s strict order, no officials from either the inner or outer court were permitted to see them off, and only after ten days would the world be informed that the court had sent civil officials to negotiate peace at the northern border.

To prevent drawing attention, the troops carried no command flags. All northern affairs were coordinated by Huang Bo, who followed the Emperor’s decree that all military orders would come solely from Meng Tinghui.

She had not informed Yin Qing before her departure.

It wasn’t for lack of time or opportunity, but rather fear that it might inadvertently cause further complications. Once news of the court sending her as an envoy to the northern border reached the North, those people would likely make their preparations.

She was not particularly familiar with Tang Cheng; they had merely been colleagues in the Ministry. She knew he was a conscientious person, which was why Fang Kai had selected him as deputy envoy to accompany her to northern Jian. But precisely because of this, she was all the more unwilling to implicate innocent bystanders.

The journey proceeded smoothly until they reached the border between the northern route to Chao’an and the Chengfu route. Only then did they truly sense how different the North had become.

To avoid encountering bandits along the way, Huang Bo had specifically ordered the guards to enter the Chao’an area via the northwestern Chengfu route. Although this area was far from the Jiankang route, they still occasionally saw panicked refugees along both sides of the official road.

Before Meng Tinghui had departed from the capital, she knew that the bandit crisis had already spread from the Jiankang route to the southern prefectures of both Chao’an and Linhuai, but she hadn’t expected that even here, at the eastern edge of the Chengfu route where it met the northern route to Chao’an, she would see civilians displaced by bandit attacks and warfare.

As the carriage traveled, her heart sank deeper and deeper, yet this only strengthened her conviction that her earlier decision had been correct.

By the time they passed Jingqiao County and officially entered Chao’an territory, the sky was already half dark.

Huang Bo quickly sent men ahead to notify the official post station, then personally escorted the carriages of Meng Tinghui and Tang Cheng as they continued forward.

The small county on the border was quite desolate. It had rained during the day, making the night roads even more difficult to traverse. The carriage moved slowly over the muddy road, with faint, star-like points of light visible in the distance.

Meng Tinghui was dozing in the carriage when she suddenly heard a soldier outside urgently shouting at a horse, followed by the sharp, piercing wail of a child crying.

She lifted the curtain to look outside. By the light of the pine resin torch at the front of the carriage, she saw a little girl of five or six being lifted from the mud by a soldier, and she frowned slightly.

It seemed that because the road was too dark, the imperial soldier had not been careful while riding and had accidentally injured the child. But there were no other people visible in the vicinity—how could such a small child be alone in a place like this?

She had the little girl brought to her carriage and carefully examined her by the light. Seeing that the child’s arm appeared to have been kicked by a horse, her heart ached immediately. She ordered, “Take this child with us. When we reach the post station, have the station troops find a physician from the city.”

Huang Bo also came forward and commanded the rest of the troops to be more careful on the road, so as not to injure anyone else.

The little girl was still crying loudly, her face a mess of tears and mud, repeatedly calling for her “Mother” with a voice hoarse from strain.

Meng Tinghui took out a handkerchief to wipe the girl’s face and took her into her arms, asking gently, “Where is your mother?”

The little girl cried so hard she could barely catch her breath, her small hands clutching tightly at her clothes. “Mother… Mother said she was going to find food for Ah Qiao, and told Ah Qiao not to… not to wander off. Ah Qiao waited alone in the field for so long, so long, but Mother never came back… Ah Qiao is afraid of the dark, Ah Qiao is so hungry…”

Meng Tinghui quickly found some water and food for her, but the girl was too frightened to touch it, only asking for her mother, her dark eyes brimming with tears.

A soldier rode over and reported, “Official Meng, there are many refugees in this area. This child was probably abandoned here by her parents.”

Meng Tinghui nodded and ordered the carriage to continue. She lowered the curtain, and the inside of the carriage immediately became dim.

The little girl trembled in her arms, terrified.

Meng Tinghui stroked her head and said softly, “Don’t be afraid. I’m not a bad person. In a while, when the carriage stops, we’ll find a doctor to look at your arm, and it won’t hurt anymore.”

The girl bit her finger as tears fell, her tear-filled eyes staring at the carriage curtain as she said in a tiny voice, “They… they kill people… they kill so many, so many people. Ah Qiao’s father was killed by them…”

Meng Tinghui’s heart constricted, knowing that the child was too young to discern properly. Seeing armed soldiers on horseback, she mistook them for marauding bandits. Meng held her tightly and said softly, “Don’t worry, there won’t be any more bad people killing others.”

The little girl stared at her with wide eyes, her face full of fear.

Meng Tinghui took some water and gave her a drink, speaking to her slowly: “Do you know, the Emperor of our Great Ping is good. As soon as he heard that bad people were causing trouble here, he immediately sent me to warn those bad people not to bully our people, or they would face consequences. When those bad people heard what the Emperor said, they immediately stopped killing people indiscriminately.”

The little girl continued to stare at her and whispered, “Really?”

She nodded, her tone extremely firm. “Really.” She thought for a moment and added, “As long as the Emperor remains on the throne, he will never allow the people to suffer like this.”

The little girl suddenly buried her head in Meng’s embrace and began to cry softly again. “Mother… has Mother abandoned Ah Qiao? Ah Qiao won’t cry for food anymore, please come back, Mother…”

The front of Meng Tinghui’s official robe became warm and wet, soaking through to her heart. She looked down gently at this tiny girl as if seeing herself from years ago—young, helpless, alone, and suffering. If this child hadn’t encountered her, wouldn’t she have died in this desolate wilderness?

The night wind rose, making the horses neigh and the wild grass rustle desolately.

If it was like this here, how much worse must it be in those prefectures and counties occupied and raided by bandit armies?

If her life could save the people, she would not begrudge it.

At the Jingqiao Town official post station that night, she had nightmares the entire night.

In her dreams there was blood and slaughter, palaces and ruined temples, people laughing and people weeping, people wailing and people clamoring—everything horrifying.

When she woke early the next morning, the bedding beneath her was soaked with cold sweat.

At the first light of dawn, Huang Bo came to ask her to board the carriage, deeply concerned that the western border of Chao’an might be disturbed by bandits. Fearing for her safety, he urged her and Tang Cheng to hurry to Qing Prefecture.

Meng Tinghui herself understood that they could not linger here, but she also instructed people to properly settle the little girl and, if possible, to look for her mother. The staff at the post station dared not refuse and hurriedly made arrangements.

The early morning breeze was quite cool. As the sun first appeared, the horses galloped, and the entire company rode urgently toward Qing Prefecture.

During rest stops along the way, even the normally taciturn Tang Cheng had a dark expression, sighing heavily several times with her. Clearly, he too had not expected this place to have deteriorated to such a state.

After traveling north several tens of li from Jingqiao Town, the road gradually became easier to travel. Riding at full speed, they continued for more than a day and finally reached the outskirts of Qing Prefecture before nightfall.

Upon receiving the report, Shen Zhishu personally came out of the city to welcome them.

A fine horse raised its hooves, a slender figure approached, and the Transportation Commissioner’s command flag was held high behind him against the night, like a sudden flash of light through the darkness, causing her heart to instantly lighten as she caught sight of him from afar.

Once they entered Qing Prefecture city, Huang Bo finally relaxed somewhat. From atop his horse, he formally saluted Shen Zhishu: “Commissioner Shen.”

Meng Tinghui had already ordered her carriage to stop, dismounted to change to horseback, and called to Shen Zhishu, who was riding ahead: “I have only one night in Qing Prefecture. Please take me directly to the Yan family.”

Shen Zhishu’s silhouette stiffened slightly on horseback. He neither turned nor spoke, but merely pulled his reins decisively, turning his horse in another direction.

And in that moment as he turned his profile, she noticed that his handsome face had acquired a fine scar at some point.