They continued their journey the next day. In the afternoon, the path ahead suddenly opened up. The child climbed to high ground, pointed ahead, and called out with fervent excitement.

Passing through a winding gap, the view ahead suddenly became vast and open.

A flat, undulating desert appeared before them like a frozen sea.

Existences of such vastness always inspire awe. The group stood at the mountain’s edge, gazing at the boundless expanse of yellow spreading before them, connecting to the pale blue sky. Buried in the yellow sand were skulls of cattle, sheep, and even humans, their hollow eye sockets staring at the sky. Withered thorns and tamarisk bushes rose and fell at angles, looking from afar like twisted specters.

Heaven and earth were silent, with only the howling of wind.

Nature was miraculous—the back side of the great mountain was cold and damp, but beyond this mountain range, the climate became dry. Dense sand pelted their faces, stinging their skin painfully.

The child remained at the mountain pass, stammering to Captain Yu that he dared not cross the desert and wanted to go back.

Captain Yu was about to agree when Feiyu strode over, hoisted the child onto his shoulder, and said, “You’re a local—you must be more familiar with this than us. Guide us a bit further.”

Without allowing argument, he stuffed the child back into the group.

The child dared to be angry but not speak, looking pitifully at Captain Yu. But Captain Yu didn’t dare offend Feiyu either and pretended not to see.

Walking in the desert was quite difficult. Tie Ci calculated that the squad they were pursuing must have ridden camels when they came through, so she ordered a search. Sure enough, they found more than ten camels about two or three li away.

Swaying on camelback, they each tore strips from their clothing to wrap around their heads and faces. Before leaving the mountains, Tie Ci had already instructed everyone to bring sufficient water, so food and drink weren’t problems. But the journey seemed particularly monotonous—the scenery before them remained unchanged. If not for Captain Yu’s simple map of the Hanli Khan Desert, Tie Ci would often wonder if they were going in circles.

For rest periods, half the group rested while half remained on guard against the legendary sand bandits of this desert.

It was winter, so the desert was bearable during the day, but at night the temperature plummeted. Fortunately, everyone had prepared for this. They had brought thick cowhide tents for their mission and huddled together for warmth while sleeping.

Tie Ci and Dan Shuang naturally shared a tent, while Chi Xue had been left on the other side of the mountain for support. Feiyu was quite eager to squeeze in, but Dan Shuang guarded the tent entrance with her blade across her knees.

Feiyu naturally wasn’t afraid of her blade, but he feared her pillow talk. He had no choice but to withdraw.

He walked away with his pack, which was heavier than others’, and pitched his own tent to sleep alone without joining anyone else.

Da Wu, having given timely warning last time, became a key protection target this time. Tie Ci arranged for him to sleep in the center so everyone could react promptly if he needed to alert them to anything.

Bearing everyone’s expectations, Da Wu slept restlessly.

Everyone was tired from a day’s travel and fell into deep sleep.

Feiyu volunteered for night watch and sat alone by the fire, tinkering with something unknown.

Tie Ci couldn’t sleep. After everyone else was asleep, she went over to relieve Feiyu from his watch, only to see him playing with sand spread on a wooden board he’d found somewhere.

Tie Ci approached and saw him drawing a female figure in the sand.

Looking closely, the figure’s form vaguely resembled herself.

But under his fingers, the woman had an elaborate high chignon, robes flowing in the wind, tinkling ornaments, and brilliant embroidered colors.

Only then did Tie Ci realize he had never seen her in women’s clothing.

Not just him—even her own father had rarely seen her dressed as a woman.

Under the desert starlight, Feiyu looked up, his dark eyes sparkling, his red lips vivid.

He smiled and asked her, “Does it look like you?”

“I don’t know either.” Tie Ci smiled. “Perhaps one day you can compare for yourself.”

Feiyu’s eyes grew even brighter. “Now? While those pigs are all asleep, secretly show me just a glimpse?”

“If you can manage to tailor a set of women’s clothing right now, I’ll change into it.”

Feiyu looked down at his own clothes, seeming to actually consider cutting them up on the spot.

Tie Ci quickly changed the subject. “Not bad artistic skills… Hey.”

She found the brushwork somewhat familiar.

“You recognize it, don’t you?” Feiyu smiled. “Didn’t you give me a thumbs up for it?”

Indeed, this was the person who had secretly altered Dan Ye’s painting outside the academy entrance when she first arrived.

Dan Ye had painted four pictures to express his aspirations, but his understanding of women was criticized by Tie Ci. Later, the paintings were tampered with by an unknown person, revealing respect for women’s status and contributions that earned Tie Ci’s praise.

She had originally thought it must have been altered by a woman, never expecting it to be Feiyu.

Tie Ci became interested and snatched the sand tray. “Let me paint you something fresh.”

She used a bottle to collect fine sand and began creating a sand painting.

She had heard her master mention sand painting but had never tried it. Lacking materials here, she could only simply pile sand to create images.

Feiyu watched from the side. At first he couldn’t tell what she was painting, but gradually began to smile.

When he smiled, even the northern desert seemed to experience spring overnight.

Fine sand flowed between snow-white fingers. The sand moved on the wooden board as smoothly as water, with a strange rhythmic quality.

A clear outline gradually appeared on the board—it was a large portrait of Feiyu’s head.

Sand painting could show excellent light and shadow contours with sharp relief, making Feiyu’s already exquisite features appear even more profound. Feiyu studied it carefully, reached out to touch it, then withdrew his hand and began rummaging through his pack.

“What’s wrong?” Tie Ci thought he disliked the painting and wanted to modify it.

“Looking for fish glue. This is the first portrait you’ve drawn of me—it would be too unfortunate not to preserve it.”

Of course there was no fish glue, and besides, it would be too late to use it now that the painting was finished.

Tie Ci held up the sand painting, compared it to him, then tilted her wrist, letting the fine sand scatter in the air.

Feiyu couldn’t rescue it in time and cried out in dismay.

Tie Ci smiled without speaking, thinking she had to scatter it immediately or he’d try to sleep and travel with this wooden board, which wouldn’t work at all.

“I’ll paint ones you can keep in the future.” Tie Ci coaxed him.

“One hundred paintings.”

One hundred paintings, what are you planning, an art exhibition?

Aloud, she answered gently, “Alright.”

Feiyu chuckled and glanced at her.

Whenever this fellow put on that calm and sincere expression, she was probably lying eighty percent of the time.

But what could he do? In the end, she was the dog he’d trained himself, and with so many dog lovers lurking nearby watching hungrily, he didn’t dare even throw a tantrum, fearing that any crack would let someone impatiently stick their snout in and snatch his dog away.

After watching Tie Ci paint, he understood how to operate it himself. He took the wooden board, about to create his own large portrait of Tie Ci, when suddenly a scream came from Da Wu’s tent.