The great nation of Dasheng revered filial piety. Every child who had ever studied knew that of all virtues, filial piety came first — one must never defy one’s parents, and even if the parents were wrong, the first thing a child should do was comply.

——That was precisely why Chen Baoxiang had hated studying from a very young age.

To hell with not defying them. To hell with compliance.

A murderer was a murderer. Did acquiring an extra title mean she was supposed to stand by and watch without seeking revenge?

Zhao Huaizhu and Wang Wu had both charged forward, dealing cleanly with the remaining soldiers at the rear.

Chen Baoxiang struck without a single blink, each blow deliberately avoiding Cheng Huaili’s vital points.

“This one is for Old Liu.” She even kindly explained it to him. “You probably don’t remember him. He ran into you in town, called you Cheng Sanwang, and you broke his legs for it.”

The blade sliced through skin, flesh, and sinew, exposing the white of bone beneath.

Cheng Huaili screamed, trying to push her away, but his hands were bound to the armrests. He tried to headbutt her, but Chen Baoxiang dodged with effortless ease.

“No rush, take it slow — we’ve barely even started.”

“Next, let’s talk about Wang Gengfu. I was really quite fond of hearing him tell stories — now how good were those stories, you ask?”

The pitch of her voice rose at the end. The blade fell — severing one of his little fingers.

“——About this good, I’d say.”

Cheng Huaili’s eyes nearly burst from his skull: “Killing your own father — you’ll be struck down by heaven!”

“Only nine fingers left now? That’s not enough to count on.” Chen Baoxiang paid him no heed. “You haven’t even settled the debts from the village yet, let alone the ones from the border garrison city.”

“I am your father — your own flesh and blood!”

“You’ve never experienced having a child carved out from your belly, have you?” She smiled. “This seems like a fine opportunity.”

“Patricide — heaven and earth will not abide it! You won’t come to a good end! Everyone will despise you and curse your name!”

“Your blood turns out to be red after all. How is it not black?”

“Help me……ahh——”

The setting sun bathed the hilltop in warm amber light. Chen Baoxiang drifted, in a half-dazed state, to thoughts of that evening in the border garrison city — the dusk that had driven her to despair.

“Do you even know her name?” She suddenly asked softly.

Cheng Huaili was already beyond suffering, without any comprehension of what she was talking about.

Chen Baoxiang felt it was a pity.

She dipped her finger in some of the blood on him, and facing the last glow of the sunset, slowly wrote — stroke by careful stroke.

……

“Grandmother, writing is so hard — I don’t think I’ll ever learn it in my whole life.”

The wrinkled woman turned around from somewhere in time’s flow, her silver-streaked hair glowing translucent in the light: “You little rascal, call you up the mountain and you spring three feet in the air, tell you to write and your face scrunches up like a dumpling — you’ll end up illiterate and probably can’t even remember my name.”

“That one I remember. Grandmother is called Ye Qiongxin.”

“Then how do you write the three characters of Ye Qiongxin?”

Little Baoxiang was stumped. She bit her brush handle and looked up with guilty eyes.

Grandmother shook her head with a smile, took up the brush, and in the full brightness of daylight taught her stroke by careful stroke.

……

“Ye… Qiongxin?”

Cheng Huaili looked on blankly at the characters she was drawing, having no idea at all who this person was.

Chen Baoxiang seemed not to want him to know anyway.

She simply wrote with solemn reverence, as though fulfilling a vow, and there was even a faint smile at the corners of her mouth.

These were the only three characters she knew how to write, and because it had been so long since she had written them, they came out a little crooked and uneven.

But that was all right. Grandmother Ye had never once blamed her for anything.

Chen Baoxiang recalled Ji Qiurang’s words — her Grandmother Ye was no nameless nobody. She was a formidably capable female official, someone who, after having her name cleared, ought to return to Shangjing and have her name recorded in the annals of history.

Such a person should never have died anonymously amid the nameless yellow sands of the border garrison.

Her gaze fell from the horizon back to the figure in the wheelchair. The smile on Chen Baoxiang’s face gradually faded, and the hatred in her eyes finally surged forth like a tide.

·

Xu Buran had wanted to go to Chen Baoxiang’s aid, but was held back by Bikong.

“Wang Wu and Zhao Huaizhu have both gone up — why are you stopping just me?” Xu Buran asked, puzzled.

Bikong shook her head: “They are all acquainted with General Cheng from the past. It would be better for you, sir, to keep your distance.”

What did not being an acquaintance have to do with it? Was Cheng Huaili particularly shy around strangers?

Xu Buran was still grumbling inwardly when he saw those few people carrying Cheng Huaili down from the hill.

“Apologies — we spent a little extra time catching up on old times.” Zhao Huaizhu smiled and raised her hand to block their view. “General Chen is a little tired. Shall we return to Mokou Town to regroup?”

Bikong lowered her gaze and nodded, asking nothing further.

Xu Buran, however, was completely at a loss and truly couldn’t help himself — he looked back over his shoulder.

“……” He nearly brought up everything he had just eaten. He looked at Zhao Huaizhu in shock.

Zhao Huaizhu maintained her smile with perfect naturalness, explaining: “The mountain road was rough — the wheelchair was difficult to carry, and General Cheng took a tumble.”

What kind of tumble could leave a person looking as though they had been executed by a thousand cuts — flesh and blood in ruin, not an inch of intact skin.

Pressing his hand to his chest, swallowing repeatedly, Xu Buran took quite a while before he finally recovered.

“Is he… still alive?” He ventured cautiously.

Zhao Huaizhu smiled: “Per His Majesty’s edict, if Cheng Huaili resisted to the death, the General had the authority to execute him on the spot. Regrettably, he resisted far too fiercely — so the manner of his death wasn’t particularly pleasant to look upon.”

“Can you understand that, Lord Xu?”

“……” Xu Buran didn’t quite understand, if he was being honest.

The Chen Baoxiang he knew was innocent and endearing, kind-hearted — how could she bring herself to strike someone with such ferocity.

·

The task given by His Majesty had been smoothly completed, and Chen Baoxiang was about to return to the capital.

Zhang Zhixu received word and went out beyond the city gates early to wait.

He wasn’t particularly clingy or the type who couldn’t bear to be separated from her — it had only been seven days, eight hours, and one quarter-hour since they parted. He was not especially worried about her. It just so happened that today was his day off, and coming here was perfectly on the way.

But it was nearly noon now — how was there still no sign of her out there?

“Master, don’t worry.” Jiuquan said. “I asked around — they’ll be here very soon.”

“I’m not worried.” He shook his head. “What is there to worry about? She’ll come back eventually.”

Saying this, he nudged his horse’s flanks and rode half a li further out.

Jiuquan: “……”

In the distance, Zhang Zhixu spotted the billowing banner of the Western Camp. Tracking downward from the flag, he easily caught sight of Chen Baoxiang.

“Fengqing?” She rose in her stirrups with a bright smile, waving to him.

Like spring winds sweeping through, setting ten thousand flowers fragrant — he curved his lips and waited, and watched as she spurred her horse to pull up beside him.

“Come to pick me up?” Chen Baoxiang asked with great delight.

He replied with measured restraint: “Happened to be passing by.”

“Don’t give me that — the Eastern Gate is nowhere near your residence.” She exposed his excuse without mercy, then stretched out her hand and gave his wrist a light squeeze.

Not hand-holding, not an embrace — just a gentle grip through the fabric of his sleeve.

Yet Zhang Fengqing suddenly felt deeply at ease, his heart soft and warm, like a bundle of freshly sun-dried cotton bedding.

He raised his eyes, just about to ask whether she’d like to go eat at Zhaixing Tower, when he noticed a familiar figure approaching from behind.

Xu Buran?

Zhang Zhixu was fine seeing this person everywhere else, but catching sight of him anywhere near Chen Baoxiang put him in a bad mood.

On instinct, he pressed his lips together and stared directly at the man.

What was unexpected was that the man didn’t meet his gaze the way he had before. Instead, he quickly dropped his eyes and even stepped past them both, walking on ahead as if absorbed in his own thoughts.

His complexion looked a bit pale, and his bearing carried a hint of… avoidance?