As the words fell, the candlelight in the room suddenly flickered. Shen Yuance fixed his gaze and looked down at the person in his arms. “Why do you ask that?”
“I just feel…” Jiang Zhiyi clutched the leather belt at his waist, her lips trembling with nervousness, “like it’s not over yet…”
It wasn’t because she had dreamed of the Zhong family’s curse that she felt matters remained unresolved; rather, it was precisely because she felt things were unresolved that she had such an ominous dream.
Earlier, while half-asleep and half-awake, Jiang Zhiyi vaguely recalled something strange: the Zhong family’s disappearance and Shen Yuance’s departure from the capital occurred on the same day. She had guessed the reason behind it, and Imperial Uncle must have guessed it too. But why would Imperial Uncle tacitly allow Shen Yuance to take the law into his own hands?
Even if he suspected the Marquis of Kangle of committing the serious crime of colluding with the enemy, Shen Yuance’s actions still challenged imperial authority.
If Imperial Uncle hadn’t punished him, was it because this matter wasn’t over yet? Was there someone behind the Marquis of Kangle? Perhaps what mattered more at present wasn’t holding Shen Yuance accountable, but using his actions to intimidate this person?
“…Was the Marquis of Kangle also acting on someone’s orders? Is there someone else who truly wanted to harm your brother?”
Shen Yuance gazed silently at Jiang Zhiyi, saying nothing.
“You have more than enough power to deal with the Zhong family, but if there’s someone more powerful behind them… wouldn’t you be in danger?”
Jiang Zhiyi urged him anxiously, one question after another. Shen Yuance remained silent for a while, then countered, “What did you dream about me that frightened you so?”
Recalling the scene from her dream—the dense shower of arrows piercing his chest—fear washed over her like a tide, choking her throat. Jiang Zhiyi’s dry lips trembled several times, but she couldn’t speak.
Shen Yuance frowned, stroking her cool forehead. He tried to rise to pour her a cup of hot tea, but she clutched his waist tightly, refusing to let him move.
“I dreamed… I dreamed you were in battle, so many arrows…” Jiang Zhiyi took a long breath, piecing together fragments of words to describe the scene from her dream.
Shen Yuance listened carefully. When she finished, he was momentarily stunned, then laughed. “Have you ever seen a battle? You’re just having wild dreams.”
Jiang Zhiyi was taken aback. “How is it a wild dream?”
“Light arrows can at most pierce armor; only heavy arrows can penetrate the chest. Such heavy bows and arrows—in an entire army, only a handful of archers could wield them. How could there be the ‘rain of arrows’ you described?”
Jiang Zhiyi pouted. “But what if there were?”
“Even then, it wouldn’t be like your baseless dream. I would have a warhorse beneath me and weapons in hand. How could arrows shot at me from the front harm me?” Shen Yuance chuckled softly. “Unless I surrendered my weapons and stood still, only then would I suffer the heart-piercing arrows from your dream. Do you understand?”
“Pah, pah… don’t say such unlucky things!” Jiang Zhiyi covered his mouth with her hand. “There’s no ‘unless’! How could Da Ye’s War God ever surrender?”
Shen Yuance took her hand and held it in his palm. “Then what are you worried about?”
Jiang Zhiyi muttered “alright” while shaking her head to dispel those ominous images. She cautiously touched his intact chest and rested her face against it.
Because of this nightmare, Jiang Zhiyi slept until late morning the next day. After being served breakfast by her maids, she was still lost in thought about last night’s events when suddenly she smelled something burning.
“What’s that smell coming in?” Jiang Zhiyi put down her chopsticks and wrinkled her nose as she asked her two maids.
Jiang Zhiyi’s discerning nose was always more sensitive than others’. Jing Zhe and Gu Yu hadn’t yet smelled anything and looked puzzled as they pushed open the lattice window to look outside.
To their surprise, they saw a burning brazier placed in the courtyard below. San Qi sat cross-legged, one hand holding a long string of yellow and white objects, the other holding a willow branch with white paper tassels, looking ready for some serious business.
Jing Zhe and Gu Yu were speechless for a long time before asking, “What… what are you doing?”
San Qi looked up, saw Jiang Zhiyi standing by the window with her head tilted in confusion, and quickly rose to bow: “Young Mistress, these are the Young General’s instructions before he left for the military camp this morning.”
“He instructed you to—” Jiang Zhiyi pointed at the brazier, “—burn spirit money in my courtyard?”
“Yes, Young Mistress, don’t worry. Wouldn’t this much money shut the mouths of the Zhong family?” San Qi unfolded the spirit money, shook it, and scattered it into the brazier. He used the willow branch to spread it out, muttering, “Vengeance has its source, debts have their master. If you want to find someone, come find our Young General. What kind of heroes are you to harass our Young Mistress in her dreams?”
Jiang Zhiyi: “…”
As San Qi continued burning, he looked up and saw the bewilderment in Jiang Zhiyi’s eyes. He thought to himself that it was indeed absurd—when the Young General had proposed this idea this morning, he too had been bewildered for quite some time.
Counting the people the Young General had killed, if not ten thousand, then at least nine thousand nine hundred. No ghost or spirit had ever dared enter the Young General’s dreams, nor had he ever worshipped ghosts or spirits. He had never commemorated the souls of those who fell to his sword, let alone burned spirit money for enemies.
“You thought that because the Young General took you away to feed the wolves, leaving no remains, we couldn’t find you to settle accounts? Today, we’re burning this spirit money for you properly. If you dare trouble our Young Mistress again, beware—the Young General will find those wolves that devoured your remains, cut open their bellies to retrieve your bones, and slaughter you once more!”
“…”
Inside the room, the mistress and her two maids felt a chill despite the warm April breeze as they slowly exchanged glances.
So their Young General was quite skilled at using both courtesy and force.
Whether it was the money that shut the mouths of the Zhong family or the threat of disembowelment, after that day, Jiang Zhiyi truly never dreamed of those evil spirits again.
Yet ghosts and spirits are merely projections of one’s worries in dreams. While the calming decoction could dispel nightmares, it couldn’t dispel Jiang Zhiyi’s heavy concerns.
That night, when she had asked Shen Yuance if his revenge was incomplete, he had avoided answering. Perhaps he didn’t want to lie to her again, but his silence was an answer in itself.
Jiang Zhiyi pondered repeatedly: who could be so powerful that even though Imperial Uncle knew they had committed the serious crime of collusion with the enemy, he still couldn’t easily challenge them or openly declare war against them?
Throughout Da Ye, there was only one such person—the Military Governor of Hedong, Fan Dernian.
She recalled what Fan Dernian had said to Shen Yuance on the day they left the capital in the first month: “It’s a pity that I must go east while General Shen must go west. From now on, our paths are destined to diverge…”
While she had been carefree, living like a character from a storybook, was Shen Yuance already plotting how to kill Fan Dernian?
But taking down Fan Dernian wouldn’t be as simple as devising schemes to overthrow the Zhong family. To avenge this grudge would mean the entire Hexi region against Hedong, and the outcome would inevitably be decided on the battlefield.
With these thoughts weighing on her mind, Jiang Zhiyi began visiting the Xuance Military Camp daily to bring Shen Yuance lunch. After they ate, she would stay to watch him train the recruits, then return to the manor with him at night.
One day in late April, Pei Xueqing, hearing that she now frequented the military camp daily, asked if she could accompany her for a visit.
Shen Yuance’s death anniversary was in May, and Pei Xueqing planned to return to the capital after observing it. She had visited many places where Shen Yuance had campaigned, with only the Xuance Military Camp remaining. Since it was a restricted military area, she had been concerned about intruding.
After receiving Shen Yuance’s approval, Jiang Zhiyi brought Pei Xueqing to the camp.
At dusk, Jiang Zhiyi and Pei Xueqing stood on the high platform of the training ground, watching the recruits practice offensive and defensive tactics.
The soldiers were divided into two camps according to the color of their armbands, engaging in combat on and around a tower designed to simulate actual warfare. Dust billowed across the field, war chariots charged forth, and the sounds of combat and horns shook the mountains and earth. Even standing on the review platform, they could feel the tremors beneath their feet, making it seem as though they were truly on a battlefield.
Jiang Zhiyi had been coming for over ten days, but was seeing a siege battle for the first time. Like Pei Xueqing, she was so amazed that she stared wide-eyed, forgetting even to brush away the flying sand and stones.
Noticing that the defending soldiers were far fewer than the attacking forces, Jiang Zhiyi asked Shen Yuance beside her: “Isn’t it unfair for so few to face so many?”
Shen Yuance observed the battle with his hands behind his back, answering her: “The defenders have a geographical advantage. In actual warfare, when siege engines aren’t particularly advanced, the attacking force is typically several times larger than the defending force.”
“What if the siege engines are very powerful and the defenders are few? What should they do?”
“Maintaining morale is the key to victory.”
Jiang Zhiyi nodded in understanding. She watched as attacking soldiers climbed ladders onto the tower while defending soldiers quickly poured yellow water from iron buckets over them. Soldiers splashed by the yellow water were judged by Mu Xinhong to have lost their fighting capacity. She asked, “What’s that yellow water in the iron buckets?”
“It’s just ordinary water.”
“I know it’s ordinary water.” The armor and weapons used by the soldiers in training were real, but items with high damage potential, like catapults, were replaced with light, soft substitutes. Presumably, this yellow water followed the same principle. “I’m asking what this water represents on the battlefield?”
“Heated golden liquid.”
“What is golden liquid?”
Shen Yuance turned his head and gave her a sidelong glance. “You wouldn’t want to know.”
Jiang Zhiyi pouted. “Stop being mysterious! Just tell me!”
“Zhiyi, little sister, golden liquid should be—” Pei Xueqing, listening to their conversation, leaned over and whispered two words in Jiang Zhiyi’s ear.
Jiang Zhiyi’s expression changed. Looking again at the buckets of yellow water being poured from the tower, her stomach churned. She covered her mouth with a handkerchief and retched slightly.
Shen Yuance laughed and raised his hand to pat her back. “I told you that you wouldn’t want to know.”
“This princess has seen enough of today’s review. I’ll go rest in your tent for a while.” Jiang Zhiyi waved goodbye to Shen Yuance, holding her stomach as she walked down from the platform.
Shen Yuance glanced at Jiang Zhiyi’s retreating figure and was about to turn to ask Pei Xueqing for help when she had already started walking down: “I’ll look after Zhiyi sister.”
Shen Yuance nodded to Pei Xueqing. “Thank you for your trouble.”
In the tent, Jiang Zhiyi drank two cups of hot tea to suppress the nausea. Sitting on Shen Yuance’s bed, she caught her breath and recalled Pei Xueqing’s words about “fecal water.” Puzzled, she asked: “Why do they need to heat the golden liquid to repel enemies? Wouldn’t it be disgusting, whether hot or cold?”
Pei Xueqing sat across from her and shook her head. “Heated golden liquid doesn’t repel enemies through disgust, but rather as a weapon with extreme killing power. It not only scalds people but also infects their wounds. Those doused with golden liquid quickly lose their fighting ability.”
“I see…”
“I learned this from Shen Yuance before. There are many tactics in warfare, and I remembered this one because it was particularly striking.”
Jiang Zhiyi nodded. Thinking about it this way, she no longer felt disgusted, only that this life-and-death struggle was truly extreme in its cruelty.
She wondered if her father had experienced such things when defending cities in the past.
Seeing Jiang Zhiyi suddenly lost in thought, Pei Xueqing asked, “Why have you been coming to the military camp every day recently?”
Holding the hot tea in her hands, Jiang Zhiyi lowered her long lashes and blinked. “I just want to see what he does every day. Staying in the deep courtyards of the manor, I know nothing…”
Knowing nothing only made her increasingly anxious day by day. Though Hedong and Hexi were two thousand li apart with no immediate reason for war, she couldn’t shake her unease and often recalled that night’s dream.
She feared that, just like before, while she was happily oblivious at home, someone would suddenly come to tell her the tragic news about her father and mother.
Pei Xueqing studied her expression. “You seem troubled. If there’s something you can’t resolve, why not share it with me?”
Jiang Zhiyi looked up at Pei Xueqing. What Shen Yuance hadn’t told Pei Xueqing, she naturally couldn’t reveal either.
Outside the tent, dusk was falling. Lamps and candles were lit inside. Jiang Zhiyi put down her tea and sat on the bed, hugging her knees. “Sister Xueqing, why does everyone have things they must do, no matter what?”
Pei Xueqing looked puzzled. “What things must they do?”
“For instance, my father had to support Imperial Uncle’s ascension to the throne, my mother had to follow my father, and also—” Jiang Zhiyi thought for a moment. “Shen Yuance has mentioned me to you, so he must have also told you about how he once mocked me, saying the Fourth Prince had politely declined Imperial Uncle’s marriage proposal for me?”
Pei Xueqing thought back and nodded. “Yes, that happened.”
“When I was young, the Fourth Prince and I were indeed close friends. Our elders would joke that when we grew up, they would arrange our marriages. At that time, I didn’t understand love and romance. I just thought that since I got along well with the Fourth Prince, perhaps I would marry him someday.”
“Later, after my family’s misfortune, we moved into the Marquis’s mansion, and I had much less contact with the princes and princesses. However, during those most difficult years, whenever the Fourth Prince had the opportunity to leave the palace, he would still visit the mansion to see me, occasionally bringing little trinkets he had made… But I forget from which year on, he stopped associating with me.”
Pei Xueqing frowned. “Why was that?”
Jiang Zhiyi smiled and spoke slowly: “At first, I didn’t understand either. Later, I learned that the once harmonious Prince Duan’s household no longer existed. The imperial palace was full of open conflicts and secret struggles—it was a place that devoured people. Everyone had changed. The Fourth Prince, as an imperial son born of a concubine, struggled to survive and was often bullied and suppressed. His mother’s family had no power and couldn’t gain a foothold in the deep palace. If he wanted to secure a future for himself and his mother, he needed to marry a wife who would benefit him. And I—his childhood playmate, orphaned, with only empty honorific titles and Imperial Uncle’s favor that could be withdrawn at any time—was certainly not a good match for him.”
Pei Xueqing stared at Jiang Zhiyi, speechless for a long while.
Jiang Zhiyi pursed her lips and smiled again. “But just as my father wasn’t wrong to choose the country, and my mother wasn’t wrong to choose my father, the Fourth Prince wasn’t wrong to strive for advancement. Having to choose between me and his future, without greedily wanting both, he wasn’t wrong either. It’s just that they all had things they had to do, and although I held a place in their hearts, when faced with these necessities, I seemed not so important…”
Pei Xueqing shook her head. “Don’t think that way. Although choices can be difficult, there will always be someone who believes you are the most important thing in the world.”
Jiang Zhiyi raised her head, looking at the tent above her. “Will there be?”
Pei Xueqing followed her gaze, vaguely guessing her concerns. “Are you worried about repeating the same pattern with General Shen? Are you still hesitant about your marriage to him?”
Jiang Zhiyi sat motionless, silent for a moment, then nodded.
Blood vengeance for close kin—if it were her, she couldn’t let it go either. She didn’t even need to ask to know that was what Shen Yuance had to do.
But his opponent was Hedong, feared even by the court and the imperial family. This necessary task was akin to walking on the edge of a knife, with life hanging by a thread.
Jiang Zhiyi hugged her knees, resting her chin on them as she said pensively: “I’m just thinking, when he proposed to me before, it was because marrying me aligned with what he had to do. But what if one day, what he must do and marrying me pull in opposite directions? Or what if… he might have to pay with his life for what he must do? What would happen to me then?”
“Am I… to be the one left behind again?”