By the time Liu Chaoming and Zuo Qian reached White Screen Mountain, it was already the middle of the night.

Though Phoenix Guard Commander Zhao Qidong had sustained injuries to both legs, he had already directed the assembled soldiers to withdraw down the mountain. The Imperial Physicians and guards dispatched by Shen Xi had also found an open area to treat the wounded.

The mountain path ahead had been blocked off, with two guards posted on each side standing watch.

On his way here, Liu Chaoming had already heard a general report of the situation from the Phoenix Guard who had rushed to the Imperial Mausoleum.

He held a torch and looked up the mountain. In the deep night darkness, the sound of falling rocks could still be heard from time to time.

Each sound was heart-stopping.

Zhao Qidong said: “Earlier when it was still light, this subordinate ordered men to enter the mountain for rescue, but rocks kept falling from the mountain, causing many more casualties. This subordinate just finished counting—only about three hundred are here, which means another two hundred or so are still trapped in the mountains. Now that night has fallen so deeply, entering the mountain again for rescue would likely be futile. Therefore, this subordinate ordered everyone to fall back and rest, only dispatching a twelve-man guard team into the mountains to search for traces of Minister Su and Minister Envoy.”

Hearing these words, Liu Chaoming only nodded slightly without making a sound.

Before long, Shu Wenlan, who had come with Liu Chaoming, returned from his survey of the surroundings.

Though autumn had not yet arrived, Shu Wenlan was already wrapped in a fur coat. Just from walking a bit, he was already gasping for breath.

Liu Chaoming waited for him to catch his breath before asking: “How is it?”

Shu Wenlan said: “The rockfall was caused by mountain collapse triggered by explosives. Commander Zhao was right to block the mountain path and withdraw everyone.”

A guard beside him raised a torch for him. He moved closer and lifted his gnarled finger to point at three locations: “Many places on White Screen Mountain have explosives buried in them. The eastern mountain edge, the left slope, and the western mountain ridge collapsed most severely. Especially the left slope and western mountain ridge—the trees there are shallowly rooted, so once the explosions occurred, the rockslides and mudslides came from there.”

Hearing Shu Wenlan’s words, Zhao Qidong couldn’t help but exclaim in admiration: “They say Hanlin Academy Scholar Shu is learned—today I’ve truly witnessed it.”

The imperial court was a gathering place of talent, but talents came in different varieties. Some excelled at strategy, some at management, some were known for clever schemes, some excelled at literary arts or diplomatic protocol, some excelled at martial prowess and commanding troops. But when it came to broad learning across diverse fields, no one could surpass Shu Wenlan.

Because this man had raised troops at his residence for many years, in his spare time he had read over ten thousand volumes. He understood astronomy above and geography below. It was said that for a period he studied the art of building seagoing vessels, and later even the craftsmen of the Ministry of Works would consult him when drawing ship construction plans.

The reason Liu Chaoming had brought him along was precisely because he knew Shu Wenlan had methods to resolve the rockfall problem caused by the explosives.

“If we want to rescue people, going up the original mountain path would certainly be inappropriate. If we circle around from the base of the mountain, the route is too far and we’d have to cross a river.” He paused, covering his mouth to cough twice, then faced toward the back of the mountain, pointing at a spot in the dense forest: “It would be best to clear a path from here, move away the rocks blocking the way, cut down trees about to topple—this way we can rescue those trapped in the mountains most quickly.”

Zhao Qidong asked: “Opening a path from here—won’t the guards entering the mountain still encounter danger?”

“They will.” Shu Wenlan said. “It’s just somewhat safer than taking the original mountain path, and faster than circling from the base of the mountain, because there’s some very bad news—”

At this point, he glanced at Liu Chaoming: “It’s going to rain soon.”

Zuo Qian, who had been directing the Golden Guards in assisting the wounded soldiers nearby, walked over and asked worriedly: “How does Lord Shu know it will rain?”

The wind this night was indeed strong, but at this very moment, there was still a moon at the edge of heaven with a few scattered stars—how could it be about to rain?

Shu Wenlan said: “Based on today’s fire clouds, the middle of the night should have had a sky full of stars, but now the wind is cool and clouds are rising—this is a sign that rain is coming.”

As he spoke, meeting Liu Chaoming’s cold, doubtful gaze, he smiled awkwardly and added: “Mainly, my knees have started to ache.”

Shu Wenlan was plagued by various ailments, and among them the most troublesome was his rheumatism that flared up whenever it rained.

The mountain had already loosened. Once rain fell, mudslides could easily occur.

Hearing this, Liu Chaoming asked Zhao Qidong: “Has Commander Zhao already sent people to notify the government offices and common people at the back of White Screen Mountain and Ao City?”

Zhao Qidong’s expression showed shame: “To speak frankly, this subordinate only thought of this point after withdrawing everyone down the mountain. In the rush, I personally dispatched one person to Ao City.”

One person? Liu Chaoming frowned.

He thought for a moment, then said: “General Zuo, immediately dispatch Golden Guards on fast horses to take the long route to Ao City and the back of White Screen Mountain. Inform the government offices and common people there of the mountain’s dangerous condition, have notices posted, then seal off the mountain paths. Tomorrow morning, count from the relay station how many people have entered the mountains, and make sure to find them all. Protecting the common people’s safety is the first priority.”

Zuo Qian and Zhao Qidong exchanged glances. Earlier they had only focused on rescuing the court’s personal guards and Minister Su and Minister Envoy—they hadn’t thought of this point.

The two men simultaneously bowed to Liu Chaoming. Zuo Qian said: “Lord Liu’s consideration is thorough after all.” He then looked toward the two Golden Guard commanders who had followed him. “Yao Jiang, A’shan, do as Lord Liu instructed at once.”

“Yes!” The two acknowledged the order and each led several Golden Guards away from the mountain.

Liu Chaoming continued: “General Zuo, integrate the remaining Golden Guards and Phoenix Guards. Have one group follow Scholar Shu to clear a path through the dense forest overnight—they must enter the mountains to rescue people by dawn. Have the other group stay behind to care for the wounded. They are all the court’s personal soldiers—they should be well treated.”

“This general receives your order.”

Having finished speaking, Liu Chaoming raised his eyes to look toward the mountain.

Moonlight spilled down, wind stirred tree shadows. His eyes were very still, like a heart that had sunk to the bottom—that kind of stillness.

His throat moved: “This official…”

Before he finished speaking, a commotion suddenly arose from where the soldiers were resting.

A soldier came rushing over to report in a panic: “Lords, Minister Su’s personal guard, Guard Tan, has awakened. He insists on entering the mountains to find Minister Su. We subordinates cannot restrain him—”

Even as he spoke, a burly, imposing man could be seen clutching his waist and abdomen, breaking through the crowd, stumbling forward to kneel before Liu Chaoming and Zuo Qian: “Lord Liu, General Zuo, I beg you both, send a couple of soldiers with me into the mountains to save my master!”

The waist and abdomen Tan Zhaolin clutched were still bleeding.

Earlier, when the explosives had frightened the horses, it was he who had desperately dragged the carriage, his entire body thrown to the ground, slashed across the waist and abdomen by sharp rocks. It was said that if Zhao Qidong hadn’t shielded him, he would have fallen off the cliff along with Su Jin’s carriage.

Liu Chaoming looked at him by firelight.

This burly, imposing rough man had tears of urgency in his eyes—a rare display of loyal devotion.

Seeing that Liu Chaoming and Zuo Qian didn’t respond, Tan Zhaolin immediately released his grip and, regardless of everything, was about to rush into the mountains: “Fine! If you won’t send soldiers, I’ll go myself!”

“Tan Zhaolin, get back here!” Zuo Qian shouted angrily.

In his desperation, Tan Zhaolin blurted out: “My master is different—she can’t endure this suffering! She’s not like you thick-skinned rough types, she—” Halfway through, meeting Liu Chaoming’s suddenly cold gaze, he paused and changed his words: “She’s just a scholar. I don’t care—I must personally go save her!”

Liu Chaoming understood Tan Zhaolin’s concerns.

If Su Jin had fallen off the cliff and was still alive, if others discovered her identity as a woman, it would bring her nothing but harm.

“Come back. This official will go rescue her.” Liu Chaoming said.

Zuo Qian and Zhao Qidong both said in confusion: “My lord?!”

Shu Wenlan stood to the side, his mouth opening in surprise. After a moment, he slowly swallowed this surprised expression, transforming it into a line of understanding in his eyes.

Zhao Qidong said: “This subordinate knows that Lord Liu and Minister Su have always been on good terms, but it’s already deep night. My lord is a pillar minister of the court—you really shouldn’t take such risks.”

“Let this general go.” Zuo Qian said. “This general received the Crown Prince’s orders to swear to protect Minister Su. Lord Liu, rest assured—even if this general dies in the mountains, I will find Minister Su and bring her back.”

“You are the Golden Guard Commander. If you enter the mountains to rescue people, who will command these soldiers?”

Liu Chaoming said coldly: “The Crown Prince ordered you to follow this official’s commands. Are you already unwilling to listen?”

Zuo Qian clasped his hands: “This general absolutely does not mean that.”

“You assign two Golden Guards to follow this official—that will suffice.” Liu Chaoming’s tone brooked no argument.

The sound of falling rocks continued in the mountain, each one heart-stopping.

Tan Zhaolin knew that Liu Chaoming knew Su Jin was a woman. With him going to rescue Minister Su, he could feel at ease.

He watched Liu Chaoming circumvent the fallen rocks and walk onto the mountain path, and couldn’t help calling out: “Lord Liu.”

Liu Chaoming turned around.

Tan Zhaolin’s knees hit the ground, both hands pressed to the earth, and he kowtowed earnestly: “You must bring my master back safely.”

He added: “My master, she… is a very, very good person. It’s just that her life has been too difficult.”

Liu Chaoming looked at him without saying much. After a moment, he silently led the two Golden Guards deeper into White Screen Mountain.

Su Jin regained consciousness in a daze. When she opened her eyes, everything around her was pitch black. After adjusting, she realized she was still inside the carriage.

Sharp, stabbing pain came from her temple. Her whole body ached. She had just propped herself up to sit when a weak, feeble voice came from beneath her: “Minister Su, you’ve finally awakened. I… wasn’t killed by the fall, but was nearly crushed to death by you.”

Su Jin started, only then realizing she was actually sitting on Hu Yuanjie. She quickly shifted aside and apologized: “Minister Envoy, I’m truly sorry.”

However, with just this movement, her head throbbed with pain again.

Only then did Su Jin recall what had happened earlier—

When the carriage fell off the cliff, their luck had been truly good—they had been caught by a thick horizontal tree branch on the mountainside. Later, giant rocks fell. Though one struck the carriage, fortunately it hit at an angle, breaking the tree branch, and they rolled down the slope.

Su Jin raised her hand to touch her temple. The wet stickiness must be blood—she didn’t know when she’d been struck.

But she couldn’t worry about all that now. She moved her arms and legs—aside from her left arm being immobile, her legs could still walk.

“Is the Minister Envoy injured?” Su Jin asked.

Hu Yuanjie said feebly: “I’m not an immortal. Falling like that and then being used as a human cushion—how could I not be injured?” He seemed to move about a bit. “Fortunately, my back isn’t broken.”

Su Jin asked: “What about your legs and feet?”

“The legs aren’t so good.” Hu Yuanjie said, then remarked with feeling: “Minister Su, do you know you nearly caused a catastrophic disaster? If you had broken my back, countless women of Annan would be heartbroken.”

Hearing him still making crude jokes, Su Jin figured he wouldn’t die. She couldn’t help but smile slightly as she lifted the carriage curtain and slowly stepped out.

Outside, night had fallen deeply. Only a pale moon hung at the edge of the sky, stars hidden behind clouds—it was impossible to tell what hour it was.

They were in an open area with nothing around them for shelter—meaning if rocks fell, they wouldn’t even have a place to hide.

At this moment, Hu Yuanjie also dragged his injured legs and slowly moved out of the carriage, glancing around: “I’m truly unlucky. Last time encountering bandits was bad enough—this time I encounter mountain collapse.”

Hearing him say this, Su Jin couldn’t help but look at him more closely.

With the smell of explosives all over the mountain, Hu Yuanjie had no reason not to smell it, yet he didn’t expose it. First, because he was still within Great Sui territory—regardless of how relations between Great Sui and Annan developed in the future, his life was in these Sui people’s hands. Second, because he knew these explosives absolutely weren’t planted by the Crown Prince, and absolutely weren’t meant to harm him. Otherwise, Zhu Nanxian wouldn’t have sent six hundred soldiers to escort and protect them. Put simply, he knew he was just an innocent fish affected by the disaster.

When Su Jin first met Hu Yuanjie, she thought him somewhat frivolous and couldn’t understand why Annan’s Emperor Hu would send him as an envoy. But now, witnessing his ability to see through things without speaking them aloud, she felt it was actually she who had been shallow in judging people.

She thought for a moment, then said with particular sincerity: “Minister Envoy, please forgive me. When Su returns to the palace, I will certainly report this matter truthfully to His Highness and will surely give you an explanation.”

She looked around again and said: “This place is open and exposed. With rocks falling from the mountain, we cannot remain here. Minister Envoy, can you still walk?”

Hu Yuanjie fell silent for a while before finally saying: “Both my legs are injured. With your frame, I’m afraid you can’t carry me on your back.”

His build was unusually tall and sturdy for an Annan person.

“But you’re right—we must move. Once it rains and we encounter mudflows, you and I will lose our lives.” As Hu Yuanjie spoke, he looked up at the night sky. Thick cloud cover had already obscured half the moon.

He struggled to stand, his left leg unable to bear weight, his right leg also seemingly sprained, but for now he could only use his right leg for support.

Su Jin picked up a thick branch from beneath a dead tree and handed it to him as a walking stick, then placed his arm over her shoulder and laboriously supported him as they moved forward.

This was a dark mountain night. The moonlight was already faint—they could barely see anything.

Each step the two took left them drenched in sweat, with no certainty in their hearts, but they knew that walking forward step by step at least offered hope—better than waiting passively for death.

The sound of falling rocks occasionally echoed through the mountains. The damp smell of moisture was already in the air around them.

Rain was about to fall.

Su Jin had faced desperate situations countless times in her life. Not once had she failed to reach today through sheer “perseverance.” A raindrop struck her forehead, mixing with the blood from her temple wound and sliding down her cheek.

She secured Hu Yuanjie’s arm more firmly on her shoulder and said: “If the rain intensifies, I’ll carry you on my back.”

Su Jin thought: she couldn’t die. Zhu Nanxian was still waiting for her in the palace.

Hu Yuanjie couldn’t die either. Great Sui was already covered in wounds and couldn’t withstand a war with Lingnan. Not only must she serve her prince loyally, but as a minister serving the myriad people, this was her responsibility.

Hu Yuanjie looked at Su Jin with some surprise.

Seeing her only focus on watching the road ahead, supporting him forward, he unconsciously gripped his wooden staff more tightly.

Two or three more raindrops fell on them—rain was truly coming.

Just then, a glimmer of light suddenly appeared in the distance.

Hu Yuanjie had thought at first he was seeing things. He closed and opened his eyes, looking again—that trace of light was truly a person carrying a torch.

“Minister Su, look.” Hu Yuanjie said, then called out: “Hey, over there—”

The person there heard the sound and walked toward them.

The firelight blazed brightly. The approaching figure was tall and slender, his face calm, features like a painting, a pair of cold jade-like eyes shrouded as if in mist.

The instant Su Jin recognized Liu Chaoming, she froze.

How could she not know what conditions were like in White Screen Mountain? The middle of night made visibility difficult, the terrain was treacherous, rocks fell in the mountains, and with the rain now falling there was danger of mudslides.

She opened her mouth, wanting to ask Liu Chaoming why he had come.

But this time, she somehow couldn’t bring herself to ask. Just because of her teacher’s entrustment? Because of the close friendship between Prime Minister Xie and the old Imperial Censor? Because they had been colleagues at the Imperial Censorate for two years?

Something unknown stirred in her heart—suddenly an ambiguous speculation appeared.

But the moment this speculation surfaced, she was both shocked and flustered as she pushed it back down.

Su Jin thought: she must be overthinking, thinking wrongly.

The instant Liu Chaoming saw Su Jin, the deep mist lingering in his eyes completely dissipated. The desolate light in his eyes, after releasing with relief, became still as the deep sea.

The corners of his lips moved, as if he actually wanted to smile at her.

But since his birth mother’s death, he hadn’t smiled purely in many, many years.

He was long unaccustomed to displaying such emotions.

So he could only dissolve the smile arising from his heart into the depths of his eyes, transforming it into a desolate loneliness carrying a trace of the moon’s gentle light above his cold gaze.

Liu Chaoming approached without much expression, glanced at Su Jin, then at Hu Yuanjie, and said: “You hold the torch. I’ll carry him.”

The rain had already formed a dense pattern. This place was becoming increasingly dangerous.

Su Jin took the torch, lowering her eyes as she hummed an acknowledgment.

Liu Chaoming hoisted Hu Yuanjie onto his back, then added: “Head east. There’s a cave there where we can shelter until tomorrow morning.”

Su Jin nodded: “Alright.”

Hu Yuanjie, lying on Liu Chaoming’s back, asked: “Did Lord Liu actually come in alone?”

Liu Chaoming, while using the firelight to discern the path, replied: “Two Golden Guards came with me. On the way, they were injured when we encountered falling rocks.”

Hearing this, Su Jin couldn’t help but glance at Liu Chaoming. His journey searching here must have been fraught with danger, yet his expression remained bland, showing nothing.

The cave actually wasn’t far. In a quarter-hour they had nearly reached it.

However, just at that moment, several giant rocks on the mountain, as if finally unable to withstand the rain’s erosion, came rumbling down.

Su Jin and Liu Chaoming both looked up the mountain. By the torch’s light, they could see a massive boulder rolling straight down toward them.

Liu Chaoming, carrying Hu Yuanjie on his back, had no time to dodge in the rush. He only said to Su Jin: “Get out of the way quickly!”

Su Jin froze for an instant. In that moment, she threw down the torch. Her left arm couldn’t move, so she could only use all her strength to violently shove Liu Chaoming and Hu Yuanjie aside.

In that instant, the giant boulder grazed Su Jin’s temple and shoulder as it crashed down, rolling toward the deeper mountainside below.

Liu Chaoming, knocked back several steps by Su Jin’s forceful shove, watched helplessly as Su Jin’s entire body went limp and fell backward.

“Su Shiyu…” Liu Chaoming called out in a daze.

The next moment, he abruptly set Hu Yuanjie down, rushed over in hurried steps, and in an almost frantic manner lifted Su Jin from the ground, letting her lie in his arms.

Actually, Su Jin hadn’t yet lost consciousness. She had dodged quickly—that giant boulder hadn’t fully struck her, only grazed her temple. Yet even just this was enough to leave her on the verge of losing half her life.

The person in his arms still had breath. Blood poured from her forehead, soaking the front of his robe.

Liu Chaoming looked at Su Jin, asking in a daze: “Why did you…” sacrifice yourself to push him away?

The rest of the words—he couldn’t ask them.

Su Jin weakly opened her eyes and smiled with great difficulty.

“Liu Yun.” She called him softly. “I… cannot repay…”

Having said this, she struggled to keep her half-closed eyes open, gazing once toward the direction she had always wanted to return to—the direction of the Sui Palace—then closed her eyes and sank into complete darkness, unable to be roused no matter how she was called.

Fine rain accompanied the moonlight falling from the nine heavens, striking her brow.

But Liu Chaoming’s eyes in that moment became extraordinarily lonely: “I never once thought of asking you to repay me.”