The people of Qingmu Camp held their breath, eyes wide, waiting to see the Regent Prince truly enraged.

Never mind his status – for someone like Yang Hu to speak such reckless words, no matter who it was, they probably couldn’t tolerate it.

Zhang Jun was even prepared to rush out at any moment, planning to kick the reckless Yang Hu down in front of the Regent Prince and beat him thoroughly, or, depending on the situation, simply knock him unconscious, then invoke the female general’s name to beg forgiveness for Yang Hu. This way, the Regent Prince would save face, and for General Changning’s sake, he shouldn’t hold a grudge.

However, he never expected that after the Regent Prince looked Yang Hu over once more, he finally said one word: “Very well.”

Everyone was stunned.

Yang Hu was also startled, looking at the person opposite him.

Tonight, the border moonlight was like a pool of silver water, coldly illuminating people.

Under the cold autumn moon, the other’s face bore a faint smile. He didn’t seem to be toying with him.

From the first day Yang Hu learned that the female general had married unwillingly, he harbored great resentment toward the high-ranking person who had married her.

The other was naturally no ordinary person – regent governing the state. The things he did, even if given the opportunity, Yang Hu himself lacked the ability to accomplish.

But this didn’t conflict with his looking down on the other. Just as generals being skilled in warfare was their duty, even if the Regent Prince governed excellently, that too was his duty.

His greatest fault was using the power in his hands to force even such an extraordinary person as the female general to have her wings clipped, compelled to marry as someone’s wife.

The Regent Prince certainly couldn’t defeat him in combat, nor did the Regent Prince need to prove his worth by defeating him. Similarly, being able to knock down the other wasn’t anything worth boasting about. He was deliberately making things difficult, retaliating by making things difficult, waiting to see this god-like Regent Prince, whom everyone looked up to, lose face and be provoked to anger. At worst, he’d accept punishment. That was all.

He hadn’t expected the other to accept.

After Yang Hu’s surprise, he said “pardon the offense” and immediately lunged forward.

Zhang Jun saw from afar that he was serious, and now truly panicked.

Yang Hu’s combat strength was so formidable that saying he ranked among the top few in the entire Yanmen camp was no exaggeration.

Looking at the Regent Prince’s scholarly appearance, how could he possibly be Yang Hu’s match? If someone got hurt, that would naturally be a grave crime. Even if no one was injured, when he was defeated later, where would the Regent Prince’s face be? One must know that once Yang Hu made his move, don’t expect him to show mercy. If real trouble was stirred up, it would be difficult to resolve.

There was no time to call for the General now. In desperation, caring about nothing else, Zhang Jun rushed out from hiding, blocked Yang Hu’s path, and knelt before that person.

“Your Highness! How noble Your Highness is – what qualification does Yang Hu have to spar with Your Highness? Please forgive him!”

After his plea, the rest also emerged, echoing his words, and working together to firmly pin Yang Hu to the ground.

Shu Shenhui had long known people were hiding in the shadows behind. Seeing everyone surge out and forcibly press Yang Hu to kneel, he smiled: “No matter. I’ve been busy with affairs these past years. If I don’t pick them up again, those defensive techniques I learned in my youth might all be forgotten. It’s rare to have such an opportunity to practice with Young General Yang – quite good indeed.”

“Your Highness—”

Zhang Jun wanted to persuade further, but heard him say: “Stand down!”

His voice wasn’t loud, his tone extremely calm. But once these words were spoken, an irresistible pressure swept over them.

Zhang Jun and the others could only release Yang Hu, slowly retreating and finally stopping nearby to watch anxiously.

Yang Hu, freed, leaped up from the ground. His form was like a fierce tiger, he again lunged at his opponent. Before his body arrived, his heavy fist was already there, striking directly at the other’s chest and abdomen.

Shu Shenhui dodged. With a “whoosh,” the wind-carrying fist brushed past his front. Yang Hu’s lunge missed, having used too much force, he couldn’t stop his momentum for a moment, charging forward several more steps before steadying his footing. Turning back to attack again, he was avoided once more. Several consecutive times were like this – never mind touching the person, he couldn’t even catch a corner of clothing.

Yang Hu hadn’t expected him to avoid several of his attacks – truly unexpected. Gasping for breath, he steadied his form. Turning his head to see the other still appearing calm and composed, he spun around with a sweeping leg, kicking at waist level. As the other dodged, he suddenly retracted his leg mid-kick, following the momentum of his kick, shouting as his body forcibly twisted in mid-air, fiercely changing to a punch instead.

Shu Shenhui sensed his intention in advance, leaning back to avoid this punch. But Yang Hu’s strike this time was both fast and vicious – how could it miss again? It connected with one blow.

Though at the moment of impact Shu Shenhui’s backward lean had dissipated part of the force, the remaining power was still considerable.

The watching crowd saw the Regent Prince’s face take a heavy punch, his body swaying and nearly falling, all inhaling sharply.

Shu Shenhui was gentle by nature. Even in his youth, he disliked showing off. Now bearing heavy responsibilities with many entanglements, he had become even more composed, rarely displaying joy or anger to outsiders.

However, no matter how modest he was, the pride in his bones was inborn.

Tonight, being provoked like this by this young military officer, if it were someone else, he might have laughed it off. How would he stoop to the same level, much less lower himself to personally enter the fray?

But this person was her subordinate – that made it different.

In his youth, he too had trained with bow and horse, slept with sword as pillow, his daily sparring partners all top experts who had passed through layers of selection. Even though confined to documents and cases these recent years, whenever he had spare time, he still drew bows and practiced swordwork, never neglecting martial arts.

If he lacked ability, so be it. But believing this wasn’t the case, how could he admit defeat before her subordinates, letting them look down on him thereafter? Initially, dodging was only to gauge Yang Hu’s true abilities. After taking that punch, he steadied himself, slowly wiped away the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth, raised his head to meet Yang Hu’s glittering eyes staring at him in the moonlight, narrowed his gaze, lifted his robe hem, and tied it at his waist. No longer maintaining his previous defensive stance, he suddenly lunged back, immediately grappling Yang Hu’s waist with one move, forcefully jerking with full arm strength.

This move was both swift and fierce. With a “bang,” Yang Hu was flipped over and thrown directly to the ground.

The crowd was still recovering from their shock of moments before when they suddenly saw the Regent Prince return Yang Hu’s favor. None had expected him to possess such skill – all were astonished and cried out.

Yang Hu’s fall was no light matter. He grunted dully, recovered briefly, but refused to give up, leaping from the ground to attack again.

Shu Shenhui hadn’t encountered such an opponent in a long time. The pain from that blow he’d taken made his blood boil and his fighting spirit fully awaken. Seizing the opportunity during their exchange, he suddenly flipped over, using his body weight to pin Yang Hu down. His right arm twisted behind Yang Hu’s back, then, bending his knee, he pressed hard against Yang Hu’s nape, pushing downward to firmly control him beneath his knee.

Both had exerted full strength, grappling for a long time. By now, both had consumed considerable stamina and were breathing heavily. Yang Hu felt his arm bend to near breaking, in extreme pain. Still unwilling to admit defeat, gritting his teeth and risking having his arm broken, he roared, trying to spin and use leverage to kick over the person behind him and escape.

Shu Shenhui didn’t wish to truly break his arm, but wouldn’t give him another chance either. While releasing his arm, he simultaneously grasped Yang Hu’s foot that was kicking toward him, exerting force again. Using Yang Hu’s spinning momentum, he immediately lifted Yang Hu’s entire body into the air, then released his hold.

Yang Hu flew out, his body like a sandbag, landing heavily with a “bang” several zhang away.

His head hit the ground hard. Lying there, after a moment when the pain in his arms and dizziness subsided, he raised his head to see his recent opponent in the moonlight slowly adjusting his clothing, then looking toward him.

He struggled briefly, slowly climbing up from the ground to sit motionless.

Zhang Jun and the others had long been watching with rapt attention. If they hadn’t witnessed it personally tonight, no one could imagine that this seemingly celestial Regent Prince could defeat Yang Hu!

Everyone was coming to their senses – some gaping, some cheering, others worried about Yang Hu and coming to check his injuries.

Yang Hu sat quietly for a moment, then suddenly pushed away his companions’ outstretched hands, stood up, and with slightly staggering steps walked toward Shu Shenhui.

“Follow me.”

He mounted his horse and led Shu Shenhui dozens of li away to a cliff, pointing and saying: “She would leap from this cliff top. Below is a deep pool. I don’t know why she does this. The first time I encountered it, I asked her. She acted as if nothing was wrong, saying she simply enjoyed it. Curious, I too climbed the cliff top, preparing to imitate her, but when I looked down below, even knowing I wouldn’t die from the fall, I still retreated. I didn’t dare.”

“Later, I learned she had leaped from the cliff top more than once before. Because in the following years, whenever she was nearby, on the same day each year, she would come here, never allowing anyone to accompany her. When she returned, her hair was always soaking wet—”

He paused, looking toward Shu Shenhui.

“Your Highness, do you want to know which day it was when I first encountered her leaping from here?”

Shu Shenhui: “Tell me.”

“It was the memorial day of the General’s mother. That day, returning to camp, the General was looking for her, wanting to take her to set up an altar in the wilderness to remotely commemorate the General’s mother. She refused.”

“That year, I had just arrived at the military camp not long before. The General was fifteen. At the time, I didn’t understand why she refused. Later, I gradually understood. The General had already commemorated her mother. In her way.”

Yang Hu finished speaking.

Shu Shenhui slowly turned his head, his gaze settling on the cliff ahead.

The bleak, cold moonlight of deep autumn illuminated its dark, rocky mass. It towered high, emotionless and desireless, silently overlooking all living beings.

He tilted his face slightly upward, gazing for a long time before asking: “Which day is the memorial?”

“Half a month from now.”

“You may go back.”

He said this quietly.

Yang Hu looked at him, hesitated briefly, then slowly knelt before him, kowtowing heavily to the ground. In an emphatic voice, he said: “Your Highness! This subordinate apologizes for the offense just now! But the General – she is extremely good! Truly extremely good!”

“In the eyes of us Qingmu Camp brothers, she should suffer no grievances whatsoever! She should be the most carefree and spirited General Changning in this world!”

After Yang Hu finished kowtowing, he rose and rode away.

Shu Shenhui alone faced Iron Sword Cliff, sitting beneath the silent, pitch-black cliff wall for the entire night. As dawn approached and the border autumn daybreak grew faintly bright, he climbed to the cliff top.

Standing firm against the wind, he lowered his head, gazing down for a long time at that deep, silent pool below the cliff, imagining with what feelings she had leaped into these waters already soaked with deep autumn’s chill.

He finally understood – this underwater world was dark, confined, filled with death-like coldness and silence.

Jiang Zuwang woke before the fifth watch this morning. Perhaps as his vital energy gradually depleted over the years, his sleep became increasingly shallow. He coughed a few times in the morning, dressed, grasped his long spear, and went out to drill. As day gradually brightened, he returned to the tent with his spear, about to change clothes and personally lead troops to wait at Yanmen city for the Regent Prince and that young emperor to see them off, when Liu Xiang arrived.

Liu Xiang brought him news. The Regent Prince had temporarily changed his itinerary and would return to Chang’an alone at a later time. He had already departed for Yunluo. The matter of escorting the young emperor back was entrusted to Liu Xiang. Additionally, he had Jiang Zuwang select elite troops to accompany them, escorting the young emperor swiftly back to Chang’an.

At the hour of Chen, in the deep autumn morning of the borderlands when the sky still hadn’t fully brightened, Shu Shenhui wore a wind cloak and riding boots. Facing the morning wind soaked with deep autumn frost, accompanied by guides and several attendants, he spurred his horse onto the road to Yunluo.

That night when she departed for Yunluo, he had desperately wanted to catch up and travel with her. But he had ultimately restrained himself.

For her she was unwilling to have him accompany her. She simply didn’t need him. He knew this.

For himself, duty also reminded him that escorting the young emperor’s swift return to Chang’an was his urgent priority.

However, at this moment, all those reasons that had previously restrained his steps were no longer insurmountable.

He wanted to catch up with her, to be by her side during this time. Even if she didn’t need him.

He also wanted to pay respects to her mother.

That was a promise he had made to her the day after marrying her. He remembered her cold reaction then, clearly unwilling to accept it. Even if she still viewed it the same way today, he wanted to go.

He needed to make this journey, for the imperial family he represented, and even more for himself, the man who had married Jiang Hanyuan as his wife.

Shu Shenhui thus embarked on this westward road with feelings both anxious and resolute.

On the battlefield, most people who ultimately died from arrows didn’t perish immediately, but often because arrow wounds were difficult to heal afterward, with multiple complications. Especially for those struck in vital areas, whether they could ultimately escape death’s grasp depended not only on the effectiveness of treatment, but also largely on their constitution and luck.

When Shu Shenhui was seventeen and patrolling the borders, he had met her uncle Yan Zhong. At that time, he had also accompanied her maternal grandfather to Yanmen for an audience. Shu Shenhui still had an impression of her uncle. He remembered him as a stalwart and forthright man with an extremely robust constitution. Now it depended on his luck.

The best physicians of Great Wei that he had urgently summoned were already on the road and would arrive soon. As long as her uncle’s luck wasn’t at its worst, Shu Shenhui felt that this time, he should be able to pull through.

Throughout the journey, Shu Shenhui constantly harbored such secret hopes. But on this day, when he emerged from the western pass and finally reached that city following his guide, despite his fatigue, hurriedly spurring his horse toward the city gates, his pace slowed and finally stopped completely on the road outside the city gates.

This time was already deep night.

The eternal night wind from the snow mountains blew over the city walls in waves as usual. By the flickering torchlight atop the walls, white mourning banners fluttered into his vision. The foreheads of the gate guards were all bound with white cloth.

He slowly entered the city, seeing white lanterns hanging outside residential doors on both sides. At this hour, proceeding inward, he could still see scattered citizens kneeling roadside with white cloths bound around their heads.

They had once again repelled invading enemies. But before they could savor the joy of victory, they had to light braziers to send off their city lord’s soul. Women wept softly in grief. Every person’s face was filled with sorrow.

Wind swept fallen leaves; the entire city was draped in white mourning.

Three days ago, the king of this place, Yunluo’s city lord Yan Zhong, had ultimately failed to survive his injuries, passing away suddenly in his prime.

The death notice had been sent out three days ago. It would reach Yanmen in half a month. Over a month later, it would be delivered to Chang’an. Then, condolences from the court would be sent here.

The city mansion built on high ground north of the city blazed with lights. In the spirit hall with white banners raised high, mourning candles burned bright, illuminating the silhouettes of those kneeling vigil before the spirit.

Young City Lord Yan Cheng, dressed in heavy mourning, sat alone in the nearby council hall.

This place had once been where his grandfather and household ministers discussed various important matters. After his grandfather’s death, it passed to his father.

Now his father too was gone, leaving him alone.

His gaze fell on a set of armor before him.

The armor hung on a standing rack, level with a person’s height. If not for the empty space beneath the helmet lacking a human face, it would look as if a living person stood quietly there.

This was the battle dress his grandfather had passed to his father. Being able to wear this armor was a symbol of honor and authority. It had countless times endured tests of blade cuts and arrow piercings, faithfully protecting its master.

But this time, it hadn’t been able to protect its lord.

Yan Cheng slowly walked before the armor, raised his hand, and lightly touched the iron plates embedded in its chest and shoulder area. The touch was icy cold. He slowly pursed his sorrowful lips and lowered his equally sorrowful eyelids. At this moment, a trusted aide hurried in from outside, quietly reporting sudden, unexpected news.

Yan Cheng’s heart suddenly leaped. He immediately turned and walked out.

Two rows of dragon-like, massive torches illuminated the area near the city mansion’s main gate bright as daylight. Below the steps outside the gate, in the firelight, a figure stood quietly and solemnly.

Yan Cheng knew that the young man before him was the current Great Wei Regent Prince he had heard mentioned countless times, and also his sister’s man.

He didn’t know why he had suddenly come here, much less his purpose. The death notice had only gone out three days ago. He couldn’t possibly have received it. But there was no time to think about this. Yan Cheng knelt and bowed in ceremony, then respectfully led this unexpected, distant noble guest inside to the spirit hall.

“Sister is inside.”

Yan Cheng glanced inward and said quietly.

“After father’s unfortunate passing, sister has kept vigil for three days and nights without closing her eyes for a moment. No matter how we persuade her, she won’t leave. What worries me most is that my sister cannot cry. I fear that if she continues bottling this up, she won’t be able to bear it. Your Highness’s arrival couldn’t be better…”

Yan Cheng explained, his voice choked with emotion, tears in his eyes, his expression grief-stricken.

Shu Shenhui silently accepted a white sash offered by a servant on a tray, tied it around his waist, and stepped into the spirit hall.

The spirit hall was full of kneeling Yan family retainers and generals taking turns keeping vigil. Among the sea of white figures, Shu Shenhui immediately recognized her silhouette.

She was dressed entirely in white, the only black on her entire body being her disheveled hair falling. She knelt before the coffin, her silhouette rigid, even her hair seeming frozen. Viewed from afar, she was like a wooden sculpture.

His arrival attracted attention from those around. Under surprised and questioning gazes from left and right, he walked with heavy steps to the altar, lit incense, paid respects, and prayed.

Soon, the Yan family retainers in the spirit hall learned the identity of this late-night mourner. After a brief silence accompanied by whispered murmurs, they all turned toward him, bowing and kowtowing.

The solemn, silent, late-night spirit hall stirred with commotion. Yet still she remained unaware. The various sounds from behind and around seemed to have nothing to do with her. For a long time, until a woman beside her gently touched her hand and spoke quietly, she finally moved. Slowly, she turned her head.

This was a ghastly pale, wooden face, eyes wide open, the scattered, vacant gaze slowly finally focusing on this midnight visitor’s face.

The woman wiped tears while continuously urging her to rest.

She looked at him expressionlessly.

Shu Shenhui stepped toward her side as if afraid of startling her, slowly bending down toward her, using the gentlest tone he had ever used in his life: “You should go rest.”

Her eyes were close before him now, and he could see even more clearly. These eyes were dry, the whites bloodshot as if stained with blood.

After he spoke, he saw she seemed not to have heard at all, woodenly gazing at him for a moment before turning away, no longer looking at him, still sitting as before. The woman wept uncontrollably. The Yan family retainers also began crying sorrowfully. For a time, weeping rose and fell throughout the spirit hall. Only she neither cried nor moved, sitting quietly, watching over the coffin before her, her blood relative’s final resting place in this world.

Shu Shenhui could bear it no longer. Bending toward her, one arm encircled her waist and back, the other arm embraced her bent legs. With slight effort, he lifted her entire body from the mat and strode out of the spirit hall. The woman was her aunt, supported by several servants, followed them out, leading Shu Shenhui to her quarters here.

As he carried her, she didn’t struggle, only like a puppet that had lost all sensation, quietly and compliantly lying in his embrace, letting him do as he wished.

He laid her on the couch, covered her with quilts, sat on the couch’s edge, grasped her hand that held no warmth of the living, gently rubbing it, using his palms to warm her cold, probably numb fingertips.

“Sisi, you need to sleep. Close your eyes. Be good.”

Like coaxing a child, he continuously coaxed her to sleep.

But her eyes seemed to have lost the ability to blink from excessive dryness, still staring open.

“Then cry. Crying will make your heart feel better.”

Still no reaction.

Shu Shenhui couldn’t bear to see her eyes remain open like this. Blood seemed about to seep from her eye corners. He reached out and forcibly closed her eyelids, finally making her eyes shut.

“Sleep.”

Finally, he extinguished the lamp and slowly lay clothed beside her, speaking to her gently in the darkness.