“This must be Xie Yanlai bewitching the Emperor,” Seventh Master Xie said with certainty.

Having returned home from court, Xie Yanfang changed back into his casual robes and sat relaxed by the window. Hearing this, he smiled.

“A’Yu is genuinely worried about Miss Chu Zhao,” he said.

Seventh Master Xie naturally knew about the young Emperor’s feelings toward Chu Zhao. That girl had saved Xiao Yu, and like a fledgling whose parents had both died, the child had latched onto her.

Children were such a bother—unable to distinguish who was family, ignorant of their own status and position. Repaying a life-saving debt with generous treatment as a loyal subject was sufficient. The ones he should truly be close to were the Xie family.

It wasn’t that there was no closeness, but he’d mistakenly grown close to that bastard son—and bastard sons were nothing good. Given any opportunity, they only sought to soar to the heavens.

“Even if A’Yu wanted him to go, what he should have done was advise against it.” Seventh Master Xie slammed the table in anger. “If he couldn’t persuade him, he should have come to tell you. But instead, all he knows is how to curry favor and ingratiate himself—whatever the child Emperor says, he just does! Being the person the child Emperor trusts most—is that something to be proud of? Absurd!”

Xie Yanfang looked at the table and said, “It may not necessarily be flattery. He also wants to go.”

Seventh Master Xie paused, seemingly not understanding. “Wants to go where?”

Xie Yanfang raised his head and said, “Yanlai is worried about Miss Chu Zhao, not much less than A’Yu. After all, compared to A’Yu, he knew Miss Chu Zhao much earlier.”

Seventh Master Xie made a sound of comprehension and blinked, seeming to understand yet not quite, then slammed the table again. “Even more detestable! Flattering both the Emperor and Chu Ling—does he really think these two are his backers? Laughable.”

The young Emperor was still small, with a long road ahead and many changes to come. Just because he could please him now didn’t mean it would last another two or three years.

As for Chu Ling, his life would end this year.

Xie Yanfang smiled. “Three—there’s also Miss Chu Zhao.”

Without Chu Ling, what would Chu Zhao amount to? This Chu Zhao was just like Xie Yanlai—and that Deng Yi too—all petty people achieving success. Seventh Master Xie was about to say something when Xie Yanfang waved his hand.

“Things are already as they are. Seventh Uncle, there’s no need to say more,” he said. “His Majesty doing this is very good. Miss Chu Zhao’s safety is of paramount importance. Moreover, Yanlai is indeed the most suitable person. Otherwise, who else could go?”

He looked at Seventh Master Xie, seemingly joking.

“Me?”

Indeed, that was quite funny. Seventh Master Xie laughed heartily, his anger completely dissipating. He stood up. “You go ahead with your work. I’m just annoyed that these people always act on their own initiative. The nation is unstable—we don’t need them causing more trouble.”

Xie Yanfang said, “No need to be angry. Ever since the Crown Prince passed away and the Late Emperor died, these past years the nation was destined to be unstable. We’ll meet soldiers with generals and water with earth—it will pass eventually.”

Seventh Master Xie nodded and took his leave.

But Xie Yanfang didn’t immediately return to his desk. Instead, he stared into space for a moment, then nodded. “If he’s worried, he should go see her. Actually, it’s that simple.”

With that, he smiled again and looked down at the letter spread on his desk, already half-written with words expressing concern. Next should come the persuasion—

Xie Yanfang picked up his brush, then set it down, calling for Du Qi.

Du Qi came in from outside.

Xie Yanfang stood up and stretched his arms, pointing to the desk. “It’s finished. Send the letter.”

Du Qi walked over to put away the letter and glanced at its contents, unable to help asking, “Young Master, have you finished writing?”

This was what he’d been writing earlier when Du Qi had stepped out. He’d been watching then, and the Young Master had said he’d finish it when he returned.

Xie Yanfang was heading toward the inner chamber and responded with a sound of affirmation.

Very well, the Young Master’s actions weren’t for him to question. If the Young Master only wrote half a letter, he had his reasons. Du Qi packed up the letter properly. As he was about to leave, Xie Yanfang turned back.

“Make it fast,” he said. “The fastest.”

……

……

The Emperor’s edicts, military reports, and official gazettes spread throughout Da Xia through courier soldiers, carrier pigeons, official channels, merchants, private means, and more.

Though still far from the border commanderies with not a hint of warfare, Chen County and its entire domain visibly tensed, especially the military camp.

In this garrison, which housed a modest number of troops, horses galloped day and night.

When dawn light was just breaking, Chu Zhao stood outside her tent and saw a military officer passing by. Recognizing him as the one in charge of courier reports, she quickly called out, “Is there any latest news?”

The officer dismounted and, not concealing the information, said respectfully, “The Prince of Xi Liang has increased his forces by another ten thousand.”

In other words, the Prince of Xi Liang wasn’t just making a show—he truly intended to attack. Chu Zhao thanked the officer.

The officer saw her frown and look toward the border commanderies, and couldn’t help adding, “Miss, Yunzhong Commandery is truly very dangerous. Though the defenses are tight, there are still many scattered Xi Liang soldiers infiltrating, burning, killing, and plundering everywhere. Yunzhong Commandery has already implemented a scorched earth policy. You really shouldn’t go in that direction.”

That day when Chen County’s garrison arrived, Chu Zhao had them handle the cleanup and follow-up investigations but told them not to stay. She’d been about to depart when Chen County’s courier soldiers caught up, saying the Prince of Xi Liang was harassing the border commanderies.

So Chu Zhao had stayed.

She remained to understand the latest developments, then determine a new route before hastening toward Yunzhong Commandery.

Chu Zhao thanked him but didn’t say she wouldn’t go. “The soldiers and civilians of Yunzhong Commandery don’t fear the Xi Liang troops, and neither do we.”

The officer looked behind Chu Zhao, where a group of—not quite guard-like guards—were gathered. Those guards were also staring at him, but when he looked over, their gazes scattered like startled birds—

If they weren’t in a military camp, the officer believed these people would immediately scatter as well.

The officer had long ago discerned these people’s identities—setting aside their bearing, many of their portraits were still posted outside the county yamen. Though upon seeing the soldiers they’d covered their faces with torn cloth claiming injuries, how could that truly hide anything?

However, since this young lady said they were her guards, he wouldn’t pry further.

The officer said to Chu Zhao, “Miss, you still don’t have enough guards, but we have no troops we can assign to you. We’ve just received orders from the court that all garrison forces must strictly defend their local positions.”

They found this order somewhat strange too. Logically, some troops should be dispatched to reinforce the border commanderies.

Chu Zhao wasn’t surprised. Compared to the border commanderies’ crisis, Prince Zhongshan was the greater danger. That’s why the court ordered garrison forces everywhere not to leave—because if Prince Zhongshan suddenly rebelled, it wouldn’t be the border commanderies in danger, but the capital.

This was also why she’d stopped to await news and readjust her route. It wasn’t fear of the Xi Liang war, but concern about Prince Zhongshan’s interception and assassination attempts.

Of course, she couldn’t explain all this to the soldiers here, or it would cause panic. Chu Zhao thanked the officer again. “I understand. I’ll consider it carefully.”

The officer said no more and galloped off.

Watching the officer ride away, Ding Dachui, standing before a nearby tent, also breathed a sigh of relief, though his posture remained tense.

“This is interesting,” someone beside him muttered. “We’re actually staying in a military camp.”

Ding Dachui turned to look at this person—it was Ge Laosan, another bandit leader. Their eyes met, both feeling awkward.

Of Luoying Mountain’s three bandit strongholds, Chang Laizi had sought his own death and been killed. Ge Laosan, like him, had been beaten into submission.

Now they were grasshoppers tied to the same string, so despite the awkwardness, Ge Laosan gave him a meaningful look and walked off first.

When Ding Dachui came over, only Ge Laosan was in the tent. Everyone else had been sent to guard outside.

Ge Laosan was staring at a map.

“Can you even read that? You can’t recognize a single character,” Ding Dachui said.

Ge Laosan flipped the map face-down on the table. “Can’t read words but I’ve got ears, don’t I? Skip the nonsense—let’s talk about what to do now.”

He looked at Ding Dachui.

“Are we really going to be her guards?”

At the time, they’d descended the mountain with the girl posing as kindhearted hunters, and the soldiers had arrived.

Seeing the soldiers had truly startled them.

What startled them even more was that the girl hadn’t introduced these mountain hunters to the soldiers, but directly said they were all her guards.

This statement was even more shocking because it clearly showed the girl had seen through their false hunter identities.

If she’d really said they were hunters, when the local soldiers investigated—

Their portraits were still posted in the city awaiting bounties.

When the girl said they were guards, the soldiers didn’t give them a second glance. Even if they noticed something amiss, they tactfully kept quiet.

These past days, they’d seen even more clearly that this girl’s identity was indeed extraordinary. The proper-looking officers in the military camp rushed to bow to her first when they saw her.

This girl’s fortune was truly big business, but this was business they couldn’t do!

“She wants to go to Yunzhong Commandery, where Xi Liang has already attacked. Going there is suicide,” Ge Laosan said in a low voice. “Even if her family is wealthy and powerful in Yunzhong Commandery, when Xi Liang troops pass through like locusts, nothing will remain.”

Ding Dachui had naturally thought of this too, and after a moment’s silence said, “So what?”

“Of course we leave,” Ge Laosan said in a low voice. “Leave this place, find another mountain to occupy. That way, no more guards, no more new boss—”

His words cut off at the sound of a cough.

The cough was gentle, but to their ears it was like thunder.

In an instant their breathing froze, unable to move or turn around, just standing rigid in place.

“Haven’t seen you in a few days—missing me already?”

A woman’s voice asked, and she slowly walked over, bringing a gust of wind.

The people outside—how could there be no warning at all?

Their most trusted brothers had surrounded the entire tent.

How was there not even a warning cough—

Ge Laosan and Ding Dachui swayed, as if blown over by the wind she brought, and sat down with a thud. They turned their heads stiffly to look at the woman now standing before them.

The woman wore a gray cloth dress, her hair pinned up and wrapped in a kerchief, with no veiled hat or hanging veil—but a cloth wrapped around her face.

They finally saw her appearance, though only her eyes.

The woman’s eyes were like autumn waters—Ding Dachui didn’t know where this phrase came from, nor did he even know what autumn waters looked like.

“B-Boss,” Ge Laosan stammered, his voice stuttering but his movements nimble as he pulled out the stool from under his bottom. “You sit.”

The woman’s steps were light as she sat down, half-leaning against the desk, looking at the two men without speaking. But her eyes said everything—meaningful, reproachful, warning, chiding, murderous.

Chiding—Ding Dachui shuddered at his own imagination, his mind already in chaos.

Before this woman, they had no ability to resist at all—not just her gaze, but her real skill.

“Once you acknowledge a boss, that boss is yours for life.” Ding Dachui gritted his teeth and said, “We had disloyal thoughts. Kill us or flay us as you wish.”

Ge Laosan swallowed and wanted to say something pleading or explanatory, but facing merely a pair of gentle eyes, he couldn’t speak a single word.

The woman said, “There’s no such thing as ‘once you acknowledge a boss, that boss is yours for life.’ Whether I can be boss is my own business and has nothing to do with you. You not wanting to acknowledge me as boss is the right thing.”

Huh? Both Ding Dachui and Ge Laosan were stunned. What did this mean? They looked at her, trying to detect mockery, threat, or something else, but found nothing.

Looking at this woman’s eyes, they just felt she was right and very sincere. Forget raising their guard—they didn’t even want to think—

“Following me is dangerous. In one night you lost half your men,” the woman continued, her fingers lightly tapping the table. “Going forward will be even more dangerous. I’m using you as disposable blades. There’s really no way to survive.”

You’re quite clear about it yourself, Ding Dachui thought.

“But then, you were things without a way to survive to begin with.” The woman looked at them and spread her hands.

This was an insult? How could an insult sound so—pleasant? Ding Dachui didn’t feel angry at all, and looking at Ge Laosan beside him, he was practically nodding along.

“You’re bandits who couldn’t even beat other bandits—no way to survive. You’re hunters, but the authorities give you no way to survive.”

“You need to see yourselves clearly. You either had nowhere else to turn, or you were lazy gluttons who chose this dead-end path.”

“It’s all death anyway—why are you being picky?”

With each reasoning sentence from the woman, Ge Laosan couldn’t help nodding along. Ding Dachui also smiled bitterly. “You’re right.” He clasped his fists. “We’re willing to be your blades, ready to die anytime, anywhere.”

The woman nodded, her eyes full of smiling intent.

“However, when you truly become good blades, you won’t die,” she said softly. “The person holding the blade may die, but the blade won’t. At that time, the blade can find a new master and be respectfully held by that master, treated as a divine weapon—for protection, for guarding the home, passed down through generations. If that happens—”

Ge Laosan, either entranced or deranged, blurted out, “Then we won’t have to die?”

The woman looked at him and shook her head. “You’ll still die.” She smiled again. “We’ll all die. Living is just waiting to die. The only difference is the waiting process.”

Ge Laosan stood dumbfounded again.

Ding Dachui cleared his head and said to the woman, “Boss, I understand everything you mean. You truly are someone who does big business, with great vision and great ambition. Ding Dachui is willing to follow you through this process of waiting to die.”

Though he didn’t fully understand, at this critical moment between life and death, Ge Laosan quickly nodded. “Me too.”

The woman looked at them, smiled, nodded, then sighed softly. “What great vision and ambition—to put it plainly, I’m just doing business to make a living.”

Those with great vision and ambition are all modest, Ding Dachui thought. Chang Laizi merely occupied one more mountain than him and Ge Laosan and thought himself invincible, and ended up dead.

“But don’t worry—along this road, it won’t just be you,” the woman added. “Our family business isn’t that large, but we have many family members.”

Now it was “our family,” Ding Dachui thought. This woman could be boss not just because of her man-killing whip. Thinking about this string of words since she came in—one stick, one sweet date—who could withstand that?

“That young lady—” he thought for a moment and began.

Just as he opened his mouth, someone outside sneezed forcefully—

With that sneeze, the seated woman suddenly stood up. At the same time, a clear, bright female voice came from outside.

The voice carried curiosity and laughter. “Hey, is sneezing also a kind of signal? That’s a good method! A’Le, write this down—we’ll use it too from now on.”

That young lady!

Ding Dachui cursed inwardly. As the old saying goes—speak of someone and they appear. Today he’d truly seen a ghost.