Zhù Ying looked at this soldier — not very old, his face and head drenched in sweat that ran down his neck and into his collar, and his words came in slight gasps.

Zhù Ying signaled to a newly arrived attendant beside her to bring the man a cup of tea. The attendant was straightforward about it — he poured a large cup and filled it to the brim with cold tea.

The soldier took the cup; his throat made several gulping sounds and the tea was gone.

The attendant poured him another cup. The soldier accepted it and again drained it in one go. By the third cup, he drank it and then just held the cup in his hands.

Zhù Ying asked, “And the others?”

“Two killed in action, five wounded — all have been brought into the city. A physician has attended to them, and the wounds have been seen to.”

“Have you searched?”

“Yes — the surrounding area has been thoroughly searched. Her horse was found, but no body was discovered in the area around the horse.” The soldier watched Zhù Ying’s expression carefully when he said the word “body.”

Zhù Ying asked, “Did Yao Jingxia say anything else?”

The soldier shook his head. “Captain Yao only sent me to report this to my lord.”

Zhù Ying asked again, “He is the one who ordered you to come — no one else gave the command?”

“Yes. The others do not yet know. Our captain requests that my lord make a decision, saying… the shorter the time since she went missing, the easier she is to find. In another two days, he will be powerless to help. There is no reason to risk many people for the sake of one — he asks my lord to understand.”

Zhù Ying had the man taken to rest. The soldier gave a salute and strode out. Gu Tong and Zhuo Jue stood at the edge of the doorway and watched him go.

Zhù Ying saw the two half-heads visible in the door frame and said, “What are you two doing there?”

Gu Tong pulled Zhuo Jue in: “Teacher, this is…”

Zhù Ying said, “Have you finished your own work?”

Gu Tong straightened himself up and said, “This student came to bid teacher farewell, and will return now. Spring plowing at the prefecture is nearly done, but the final stages still need overseeing, and with the border so close, we also need to gather some able-bodied men to guard the frontier.”

“Off you go then. In future, if you want to hear something, do not skulk around.”

Gu Tong’s scalp prickled: “Yes.”

He gave a quick bow and departed carefully. Zhuo Jue left with him. As both of them left the room, they paid particular attention to Zhù Ying’s expression — it remained exactly as usual, giving no appearance of worry, which left them unable to determine exactly how she regarded Zhù Qingjun.

Gu Tong soon left the prefectural city. Zhuo Jue stayed temporarily at the field headquarters, as his current tasks had reached a stopping point and he had three days of rest. Yet in those three days, he did not see Zhù Ying send anyone to search for Zhù Qingjun, nor did she announce the news of Zhù Qingjun’s disappearance. This was deeply inconsistent with Zhù Ying’s usual character of being fiercely protective of her own people, and Zhuo Jue could not work out the reason.

The following day, the messenger soldier returned to his post. Zhuo Jue was not present at the time and did not know that Zhù Ying had sent a message back with the soldier for Captain Yao Jingxia: “Do not make a commotion. Do your best. Military orders come first.”

The moment the soldier left the field headquarters, Zhù Ying had already dispatched an official document to Marquis Zheng’s side, inquiring whether there had been any changes at the front and how she should coordinate. The following day, she received Marquis Zheng’s reply: Stand ready. I am aware of what happened at the border city. The northern tribesmen’s actions this time are different from before — there may be a major move coming.

Upon receiving the reply, Zhù Ying threw herself into work. Official documents flew outward without pause; some people around her were called back, others sent out. Zhuo Jue’s three days of rest ended early. He plunged into new busyness, and in the midst of it, the matter of Zhù Qingjun slipped from his mind.

On the other side, Su Zhe had noticed that something was wrong.

Su Zhe and Zhù Qingjun had gradually grown close over these past few years, with something of the feeling of friends. She felt that Zhù Qingjun was no slow-witted person, and the two of them could always pick up on each other’s thoughts in conversation. Su Zhe had known about Zhù Qingjun volunteering to escort the grain and had not tried to stop her. She had her own affairs to attend to, and only when she paused to catch her breath did she suddenly realize that Zhù Qingjun had not been seen for quite a number of days.

Su Zhe went to find Xiang An and asked, “Third Sister, have you seen Qingjun?”

Xiang An said, “Didn’t she go to transport the grain?”

“She should have been back by now!”

Xiang An said, “Do not worry — by my reckoning, she should be back any day now.”

Su Zhe waited two more days. All those who had traveled with Zhù Qingjun had returned — all except Zhù Qingjun herself. And fewer people had come back than had left. Those who returned were all attendants of Zhù Ying and were thus able to enter the field headquarters. The other people in the traveling party were quartered at camps elsewhere. These returning women had white cloth tied at their waists and white mourning cords on their heads. Su Zhe’s face went instantly pale.

She stepped forward quickly and pointed at the funeral urns they carried on their backs and asked, “These… who are they?”

The young women’s eyes were already red; one opened her mouth, but tears came before words. Su Zhe went completely numb where she stood, swaying slightly as she asked, “Qingjun…”

“She— she hasn’t been found.”

“What?!” Su Zhe was jolted back to alertness. “Come inside and tell me — what do you mean, not found? Never mind — I will go with you to see Grandfather!”

The group arrived before Zhù Ying and knelt in a dark, dense crowd on the floor. The one at the front cried, “My lord!”

Zhù Ying said, “You have returned — that means you are safe. Tell me slowly from the beginning.”

The lead young woman was one of the attendants Zhù Ying had brought back from the estate. She was clear-spoken and, despite her sobs, managed to explain the situation coherently.

“Our grain escort proceeded without incident all the way — we were within thirty li of our destination when suddenly dozens of northern cavalry charged out from the flank…”

The northern cavalry had come with war cries and charged directly for the grain carts. Zhù Qingjun immediately gave the order: she and the grain-escort troops would intercept the cavalry, while the others were to push the grain forward and withdraw first. She also dispatched a messenger to seek reinforcement from Captain Yao Jingxia.

She kept back some of the grain carts and had them pushed to the front to obstruct the enemy; her own people sheltered behind them and fired arrows. But the civilian laborers accompanying the transport were not disciplined soldiers — in the chaos, some were too terrified to move, others simply ran; those who remained and could still follow orders became tense and their movements were not swift enough.

The grain convoy was unwieldy and cumbersome, difficult to maneuver. The northern cavalry looked ready to overrun them at any moment. Fortunately, they had brought bows and crossbows along, and with a volley of desperate fire, they barely managed to hold the line.

But the northern cavalry were undeterred, circling around to strike from the flank and rear — wearing them out with relentless pressure.

Zhù Qingjun rode at the very front, exchanging arrow fire with them. The enemy were cunning — while shooting arrows, they also set fires. Failing to plunder, they now sought to burn the grain supply.

In the midst of the chaotic fighting, the enemy managed to set several large carts ablaze. The smoke and flames billowed up, frightening more laborers into fleeing.

Fortunately, Captain Yao Jingxia and his men had calculated that the grain should have arrived by then and had been keeping watch in that direction. The moment they saw smoke and flames, they rode out to reinforce.

In all the smoke and fire and tumult, when quiet was finally restored it was discovered that the grain had suffered a quarter loss to the flames, several people on their side had been killed or wounded — and Zhù Qingjun was nowhere to be found.

The wounded could not yet be moved and were recovering nearby. The young women had brought back the ashes of the fallen to be properly interred.

The young woman said through her tears, “My lord — please save Qingjun!”

Zhù Ying said, “You are back — that means you are safe. Tell it to me slowly. Third Sister, see to proper arrangements for those who have passed. Were there any civilian laborer casualties? Compensation must be given.”

Xiang An quickly said, “Yes.”

Su Zhe said urgently, “Then let me take people to find Qingjun!”

Zhù Ying said, “Have you finished your own work?”

Su Zhe said, “But Qingjun…”

Lin Feng strode over. The incident at the field headquarters had of course drawn attention, and he had come to see for himself. After listening for a moment, he said, “Foster father — let me go.”

Su Zhe glanced at Lin Feng and said, “I will go instead.”

Lin Feng said to her, “You cannot go — what about your mother?”

“What does my mother have to do with this…” Su Zhe suddenly stopped short.

Zhù Ying said, “What is all this arguing about? Do any of you know where she is? And how exactly do you intend to find her? I have already asked Captain Yao Jingxia to keep watch. Making a great spectacle of it — are you afraid the northern tribesmen won’t know you value her? Is that supposed to help them find her? She is both brave and resourceful, a person who takes responsibility seriously. If anything has happened, there will be some sign of it. Unless she is dead — or has run into some kind of situation. No body has been found, which suggests she is likely not dead. Keep the home front in order and wait for her to return.”

With Su Zhe and Lin Feng seeing how composed she was, they too calmed down and said, “Yes.”

Zhù Ying herself could not be certain of what had become of Zhù Qingjun. She spoke of her as likely still alive, yet she had mentally prepared herself for the possibility that the person might already be gone. On a battlefield, anything could happen. But Yao Jingxia had searched once and found no body — a living person should have walked away on their own.

So where had she gone?

Zhù Qingjun was crouching in the long grass. The clothes she wore were no longer the ones she had set out in, and on her head she had pulled on a felt hat of the kind that men from the grasslands commonly wore.

She had been assigned this task for a while now, and this was the first time she had been ambushed while escorting grain. She had been a little tense at the time but not panicked, and had prepared herself for there to be losses. When the fires started, her only thought had been that the handover later would be more troublesome.

She had never planned to “disappear.”

She was escorting grain. Though she harbored a heart that longed to go into battle and win renown, she knew what her duty was and what should take priority.

Her plan had been to return quickly to report the grain loss and request that additional supplies be dispatched.

Until she saw the ornaments on a young man among the northern cavalry across from her.

Wherever people lived, and whatever their customs, it was always true that the finery of the wealthy was more elaborate and precious, while the poor wore something plainer. Even for a common type of ornament shared across cultures — say, the hairpin familiar in the Central Plains, which might be a thorn-wood pin or a gold pin — the man across from her was very much a gold pin.

Zhù Qingjun instinctively felt something was off.

She had been in the north for some time, and the field headquarters had worked hard to learn about the northern tribesmen. If that man’s dress was authentic, he had to be a big fish. The moment she saw her own reinforcements kicking up a billowing cloud of dust in their approach, and the enemy preparing to flee, Zhù Qingjun grabbed one of the young women: “When the time comes, tell Captain Yao that I have gone to chase a big fish.”

She dared not follow too closely for fear of being noticed, and she was not familiar with tracking on open grasslands — in mountain forests, she would have been far more at ease. Yet she could not follow too distantly either, or she would lose them.

She tracked them until nightfall, watched them make camp and kindle a fire, and had no choice but to feel for the water pouch at her waist and take a sip of cold water. It was now into summer; Zhù Qingjun endured the mosquitoes and insects in the tall grass, not daring to fall into a deep sleep, and also not daring to let her horse draw too close.

She had learned a little of the northern tongue, but complex conversation was beyond her. The night wind carried over fragments of broken words. Zhù Qingjun strained to make out a few: Chancellor… merit… march south…

So the big fish was actually a “crown prince!” Was he the son of the northern chieftain?

Zhù Qingjun felt a surge of excitement.

After that, their conversation turned to slaves, cattle and sheep, young women — ordinary domestic talk — and the words came faster and faster, until Zhù Qingjun could no longer follow clearly.

This situation was exhausting in every way. Without a decent horse she would struggle to move, let alone track. She had no choice but to quietly lead her horse some distance away. The firelight would keep her from losing sight of them.

The following day, her clothing had grown damp all over. She took a plain robe from her saddlebag and changed into it, then continued tracking.

This went on for three days, and she found herself reconnecting with a feeling from childhood — hunger.

She had gone hungry often as a child, but ever since encountering Zhù Ying, she had never gone hungry again. Since she was escorting grain, she had brought no real provisions along — only enough for a single meal, grabbed on the fly. Now even the last few pieces of dried flatbread were gone, and the water pouch was empty.

It was at precisely this moment that she heard the rumble of distant hoof beats!

Zhù Qingjun’s expression changed.

She had never seen an army of thousands in motion before. She had only ever seen a large force bivouacked in a great camp — but this sound, there had to be no small number of people behind it.

Zhù Qingjun stopped. She moved a little further from them. She raised an open palm toward them and measured. Judging by the spread of people across the terrain, there had to be several hundred at least.

She concealed herself and did not dare to move. She waited until nightfall, when another group of riders came and merged with the first. Zhù Qingjun went hungry through another night. During that time, two more groups arrived and merged in, so that combined there seemed to be something close to a thousand. After converging, they moved forward again early the next morning, and to her surprise they arrived at an earthen fortified town. Outside the town lay a great camp.

Zhù Qingjun raised her palm again and estimated: the size of the earthen town, the area of the camp. Then she turned her horse around and rode back at a full gallop.

The return journey was somewhat easier than the tracking had been. Zhù Qingjun could finally breathe for a moment, and let the horse rest as well. There were no distinct roads on the grasslands; she did not dare let the horse gallop freely — if the horse tripped and broke a leg, she would have only her own legs to carry her.

Along the way, she tried to find some food. She was not familiar with the grassland environment, and no wild sheep or rabbits happened to wander past. With both sides now at war, the trade routes had been cut off, and it was very hard to encounter passing merchants from whom she might buy supplies.

She finally shot a bird — all stringy meat and too many small bones — but she managed to roast it and use it to fill her stomach a little.

The return journey took her several days. She went directly to find Yao Jingxia. By that time, the grain escort had already returned. She reported everything she knew to him, but Yao Jingxia was reluctant to believe her: “Are you sure of what you saw? And you actually made it back?”

Zhù Qingjun said, “Then give me a fresh horse, and I will go report this to my lord myself.”

Yao Jingxia said, “It is not that I doubt you — but you went north on your own without authorization, and then came back perfectly fine…”

How could that not look suspicious, any way you looked at it? Your orders were to escort grain, and before the handover you pulled a disappearing act, then came back claiming you had been tracking some kind of crown prince?

Zhù Qingjun said, “I told Xiao Yin to tell you!”

Yao Jingxia said, “I have no idea who Xiao Yin is!”

Zhù Qingjun reasoned with him: “In any case, I answer to our lord, not to you.”

Yao Jingxia grudgingly said, “Fine — wait here.”

He put Zhù Qingjun in a quiet room and went to find several of the young women who were recovering from their wounds. The young women, not knowing Yao Jingxia’s suspicions, were glad that Zhù Qingjun had come back safely — and then, thinking of Xiao Yin, burst into tears all over again: “Xiao Yin is already dead.”

Xiao Yin had been one of the two who were killed in action, struck by a stray arrow — she had not been able to deliver Zhù Qingjun’s message. Yet Yao Jingxia also did not dare act rashly with Zhù Qingjun. He dispatched a messenger in great haste to send word to Zhù Ying.

The following day, Lin Feng arrived at Yao Jingxia’s position carrying an official document bearing Zhù Ying’s seal: “I have been sent to bring Qingjun back.”

Yao Jingxia completed the handover with him and said, “In unusual times, one cannot be too careful.”

Lin Feng laughed and said, “I understand! This girl was also a little careless in places. Foster father has been waiting urgently for her. Next time let me buy you a drink!”

“Agreed!”

When the two of them met, Lin Feng took one look at Zhù Qingjun’s face — several large red welts on her cheeks — and exclaimed in surprise: “What happened to you? Are you ill again?”

Zhù Qingjun said, “Mosquito bites! Where is my lord? I have urgent military intelligence to report!”

Lin Feng said, “What military intelligence could you possibly have?”

Zhù Qingjun explained the whole matter. Lin Feng said with some envy, “How is it that all the good things happen to you?”

“Let us go quickly! I am afraid it may already be too late.”

Since the fighting had started, contact between the two sides in civilian life had become very sparse, and the scouts sent out by both sides had gradually grown lax. Zhù Qingjun estimated the distances — if mounted cavalry rode hard, they could be at the city walls again in two days.

“Oh, right — Little Sister has been missing you terribly! She was clamoring to come find you, but foster father held her back. Hey, you should change your clothes!”

“There is no time!”

The two of them rode hard. Zhù Qingjun kept pushing Lin Feng onward, traveling through the night, and arrived at the field headquarters the following afternoon. Lin Feng had gone without three meals and his eyes had gone vacant: “Could you slow down a little…”

The field headquarters erupted with joy. Su Zhe had been anxious and restless for days. Hearing that Zhù Qingjun had returned, she picked up her skirts and ran outside.

“Qingjun!”

Zhù Qingjun also broke into a grin: “Little Sister!”

“What has become of you?!”

“It is nothing — I need to go and report some matters to my lord.”

“Oh, yes, come on!”

Zhù Ying had already received word of her return. She had not left the field headquarters these past few days. Zhù Qingjun going and coming back — she had already formed a guess.

Zhù Qingjun stepped before her and bowed. Zhù Ying said, “You are back.”

Zhù Qingjun raised her face: “Yes!”

“Get up and tell me — what happened. You all, go outside. Prepare some fresh clothes and food for her.” Then she gave a glance to Hu Shijie, who quietly slipped out and pulled the door shut behind her, rested a hand on her blade, and stood guard at the entrance.

Zhù Qingjun said, “My lord — I did not intend to act on my own authority. It was because…”

She recounted everything: how she had been ambushed by the northern cavalry, how she had noticed something odd about the opposing commander’s appearance, how she had tracked them, how Xiao Yin had died through unfortunate mischance, failing to deliver the message. Finally she said, “My lord, I swear — I saw it very clearly! It was them! At their camp I also saw several distinctive banners…”

Zhù Ying said, “Come here — draw them.”

Zhù Qingjun drew the banners from memory. Zhù Ying looked them over. One was the emblem of Leiliao Atu; another also belonged to a great tribal power among the northern peoples; the last displayed the northern chieftain’s totem with a small additional decorative element beside it.

Zhù Ying said, “Go rest first. Early tomorrow morning, come with me to see Marquis Zheng.”

“I am afraid there may not be enough time.”

Zhù Ying said, “You cannot rush this. Go.”

“Does my lord believe me?”

Zhù Ying smiled. “Go and rest.”

“Yes.”

After Zhù Qingjun left, Zhù Ying picked up a reply letter from Marquis Zheng. It read: Scouts have been dispatched to investigate.

Trust and verification were two different things — without verification, how could she convince Marquis Zheng? And from the sound of it, Marquis Zheng was already making preparations on his end. It was just… alas, the crops along the border — who knew whether they would be able to grow all the way to harvest this year.

Zhù Ying bent her head and looked at the totems Zhù Qingjun had left on the table. She reached out a finger and tapped the northern chieftain’s totem — was it the chieftain himself who had come this time?

As it turned out — no, not at all!

It was Leiliao Atu who had brought the chieftain’s son along to “train.” This person could be called the chieftain’s “Crown Prince.”

At this moment, the “Crown Prince” was seated on the main chair, saying to the “Prince” seated beside him, “Are you not being rather recklessly brave?!” The two were of similar age and had quite compatible temperaments.

Leiliao Atu gave a slight cough. Both of them quieted down. Leiliao Atu said, “What were your orders?”

“To… to probe the movements of the Xida Tribe.”

“And what did you do?”

“Ah…”

Leiliao Atu then addressed the “Crown Prince”: “He cannot obey orders and carry out instructions properly, and yet the Crown Prince would praise him for it — does that mean, going forward, any commander at all may disregard his orders as he pleases?”

He then turned back to the “Prince”: “How many men did you take with you? How many were on their side? You lost thirteen riders in this venture — every one of them a warrior! If you had been trapped there, how would the Crown Prince have explained it to your father?!”

This “Prince” was not the son of the northern chieftain, but rather the most clever and capable son of one of the great tribal chieftains of the northern peoples — full of drive, decisive, and formidable in martial ability.

Leiliao Atu had never actually planned a large-scale advance at this time. Over the past two months, the various tribes had been making some unusual moves. Marquis Zheng was a crafty old fox — he had been stirring up several tribes to persistently oppose Leiliao Atu, and had been quietly providing support to these “rebels.”

Leiliao Atu had come in person with the “Crown Prince” and the “Prince” as part of a “royal tour,” meant to display their military strength and suppress internal unrest. The “Prince” was there to be trained under the “Crown Prince” and the Chancellor, to try his hand at things.

When he had seen at the Xida Tribe’s encampment the support Marquis Zheng was providing, he had grown impulsive on the spot, pushed further south, and then — spotting a group of women leading a grain escort — judged it to be a good opportunity, and gave in to the urge to act.

In Leiliao Atu’s thinking, reform required a person of sufficient status to be sacrificed as a warning, to show everyone that he meant it. The “Prince” was noble enough — but the “Prince’s” tribe was one of the strongest supporters of the chieftain, and the “Prince” was not expendable; his father regarded him as his chosen heir.

To punish him under military law would be impossible to explain to his father.

Leiliao Atu said, “Five squadrons of nearly a thousand riders were dispatched to find you — and look at what you got up to!”

The two young men secretly made faces at each other behind his back, while adopting the expressions of people listening very earnestly to a reprimand.

At this moment, neither of them knew that Zhù Ying had already taken Zhù Qingjun and arrived at Marquis Zheng’s camp.

Marquis Zheng stood before a great map and said, “The northern tribesmen who have come this time are far more organized than before — they even know to cut off the supply routes. They must not be underestimated! We cannot let the battlefield be drawn onto our own territory — the fight must be taken to their ground!”