As soon as Zhao Jin spoke, she knew she had said the wrong thing. Feeling annoyed, she didn’t dare look at Jiang Xinzhi’s gaze. No matter how brave and fearless a girl was, she would always be somewhat shy when facing her beloved. It was just that everything about this place and situation was wrong now, making Zhao Jin almost want to cry. She stared intently at that enormous black bear and said: “Anyway, it’s too late to say anything now. You can just treat my feelings for you as a story. After you return today, continue being your general. There are countless noble ladies in the capital who want to marry you now—you’ll surely find one who pleases you, then grow old together with graying temples and harmonious music…”
Someone who hated studying and detested flowery poetic phrases had for the first time used two such idioms in succession, probably even making herself sick with her own words. But the more she thought about it, the more heartbroken she became. Since Jiang Xinzhi’s appointment as general, he had become one of the court’s pillars. Being so young, handsome, and gentle, countless women wanted to marry him. She had once subtly asked her two brothers what kind of women men generally liked. Her brothers all said they preferred gentle and graceful women skilled in music, chess, books, and painting, preferably with some frail and pitiful appearance. Thinking of herself wielding a spear in the courtyard and destroying straw dummies with one thrust, Zhao Jin felt increasingly disheartened. Now she had intended to quickly persuade Jiang Xinzhi to leave, but thinking that he might truly spend his life in loving devotion with some gentle, lovely woman made her heart ache even more. She sniffled, her eyes immediately reddening. But she still stubbornly raised her head, forcing back tears, and said: “Since we have no fate in this life, I might as well transform my feelings for you into friendship. Being able to die for a great general like you, I have no regrets. Previously in the Southern Border camp we spent time together, and now we face such circumstances together—I suppose we’re comrades through life and death!”
Jiang Xinzhi’s heart had softened from Zhao Jin’s words, and seeing her red-rimmed eyes made him ache with tenderness. But when Zhao Jin said this, his face darkened again. What kind of talk was this? What feelings becoming friendship? Her attitude seemed like a man on the battlefield protecting his lord. He had originally wanted to wait for this girl to understand on her own, but now he felt that with her way of thinking, she probably wouldn’t figure it out even after a lifetime. Fine—since he was a man, he might as well take the initiative.
“You should get on the horse first.” Jiang Xinzhi suddenly pulled her onto his horse. Zhao Jin’s horse had been injured by the black bear and couldn’t move, but Jiang Xinzhi’s “injured” horse had miraculously recovered and could run again. Zhao Jin was slightly startled as Jiang Xinzhi suddenly drew the soft sword from his waist and cut down a patch of thornbushes with one stroke, perfectly clearing a path for two people and one horse to gallop through.
The black bear’s massive body, though covered in tough fur, was helpless against these knife-sharp thornbushes and could only stand behind roaring. The horse ran swiftly, and Zhao Jin finally came to her senses, asking in astonishment: “How can this horse run again? Wasn’t it injured?”
“The injury has healed now,” Jiang Xinzhi answered.
“But your arrows were gone…” Zhao Jin was held in front of him, leaning against Jiang Xinzhi’s chest. This was her first time being so close to a man’s body. Previously when interacting with men, it was either sparring or fighting—never such a gentle moment.
“No arrows, but I still have a sword,” Jiang Xinzhi answered.
No matter how careless Zhao Jin was, she sensed something wrong. She suddenly sat up straight and looked at Jiang Xinzhi in shock: “You lied to me?”
The horse had run a safe distance and slowed down. Only then did Jiang Xinzhi have time to look at Zhao Jin: “Why do you think I lied to you?”
Zhao Jin was quite straightforward by nature, never liking roundabout approaches and most detesting being schemed against or deceived. So upon learning Jiang Xinzhi had lied to her, she had been quite angry. But when Jiang Xinzhi asked this, she forgot about being angry and looked at him somewhat puzzled: “Why?”
“I saved you just now,” Jiang Xinzhi said. “How will you repay me?”
Zhao Jin looked at him in confusion, not understanding what he meant. Jiang Xinzhi was truly strange today, saying things that were often incomprehensible. But she still answered honestly: “I’ll have my brother choose some suitable weapons to send you. If you don’t like them, I’ll send some banknotes later…”
This person was truly too honest. Jiang Xinzhi was both amused and exasperated, suddenly not understanding why Zhao Jin, though several years older than Jiang Ruan, couldn’t match Jiang Ruan’s cleverness and sensitivity, being extraordinarily slow about certain things.
“None of that is necessary,” Jiang Xinzhi interrupted her. “Pledging yourself to me will do.”
Zhao Jin blinked, her mind momentarily confused. This person spoke so unreasonably—pledging herself… pledging herself? She suddenly shivered and couldn’t control her wandering thoughts, stammering: “This… this… Back in the Southern Border camp, I also saved you…”
“That works too,” Jiang Xinzhi finally lost patience, pulled her over, and lowered his head to kiss her: “I pledge myself to you.”
…
The campfire burned slowly with crackling sounds. Jiang Ruan and the others sat around the fire. The tents were already set up—three in total: one for Xuan Pei, one for Xiao Shao and Jiang Ruan, and one for the Embroidered Uniform Guards. Xuan Pei’s guards weren’t so fortunate and had to find trees to lean against for rest.
Jiang Ruan nudged Xiao Shao: “What about Big Brother’s situation?” Since there were so many wild beasts in this hunting ground, it didn’t seem to be merely for frightening noble children. Whatever deeper meaning lay behind it would only be revealed tomorrow. Even so, Jiang Ruan couldn’t help worrying about Jiang Xinzhi.
“I’ve already sent people to protect him. Don’t worry,” Xiao Shao squeezed her hand.
While they were talking, Xuan Pei suddenly poked his head out between them, sitting right in the middle of Jiang Ruan and Xiao Shao as if nothing had happened. He looked at Jiang Ruan and blinked: “Princess, I’m so scared.”
Fortunately Xuan Pei’s guards sat far away and didn’t hear this, or they would surely be so shocked their eyeballs would fall out. Even so, the Embroidered Uniform Guards who heard Xuan Pei’s words all widened their eyes. This child usually appeared as steady as a second Xiao Shao and was most unfathomable, yet here he was showing such unguarded weakness to Jiang Ruan… Where was his princely demeanor? He was practically like a fledgling bird nestling against its mother.
Jiang Ruan was most susceptible to Xuan Pei’s approach. Even though he had changed how he addressed her, she still treated him as in the previous life. She immediately reached out to ruffle his hair: “Don’t be afraid. I’m here watching over Your Highness.”
The Embroidered Uniform Guards’ jaws dropped again. Though Jiang Ruan usually appeared gentle, everyone knew she wasn’t easy to provoke. Her surface gentleness was merely politeness—actually she was as cold as their master. Even their master didn’t seem to receive such tender smiles from Jiang Ruan, which could melt one’s heart. Her gaze was full of doting affection, making everyone who saw it feel goosebumps. Jin San said: “Young Madam isn’t looking at His Highness—she’s clearly looking at a son. When I was on missions, the neighbor’s aunt looked at their Da Niu just like this.”
“Perhaps His Highness has awakened her inner desire to be a mother?” Jin Er touched his nose: “Young Madam probably wants a child of her own. This Thirteenth Prince is so adorable, Young Madam probably likes him.”
Jin Si shook his head: “That’s not right. With Young Madam and Master’s looks, their child would definitely be much better-looking than the Thirteenth Prince.”
Jin Yi, who had been watching coldly, leisurely added: “That would require actually having one first.”
Everyone fell silent for a moment. Jin San said: “Looks like Master still needs to work harder. Even for Young Madam’s sake, he can’t just sit by. Hey, we should talk to Old Lin about this—he surely has ways.”
Jiang Ruan sitting by the campfire obviously didn’t know that her tender treatment of Xuan Pei had been witnessed by the Embroidered Uniform Guards and had become evidence confirming Xiao Shao’s “inadequacy.” Her maternal affection with Xuan Pei didn’t seem improper to Xiao Shao. Since learning of Jiang Ruan’s past, Xiao Shao had changed his opinion of Xuan Pei considerably, sometimes even specifically instructing palace hidden guards to look after him.
However, Xuan Pei obviously didn’t understand this cheap father’s good intentions. Whenever he saw Jiang Ruan and Xiao Shao being affectionate, he felt like something important to him was being taken away. So seeing Xiao Shao’s unmoved appearance, he said: “Prince Xiao was truly magnificent today. Seeing your abundant prey, tomorrow’s champion should be you. Have you considered what prize to request from Father Emperor?”
Without waiting for Xiao Shao to speak, Xuan Pei continued: “Will you ask Father Emperor for some beauties? The palace has recently recruited a new batch of beauties. Or I heard that Miss Yao is also enamored with you—she happens to be here today, so why not take the opportunity to request her?” His words were half-joking, half-serious, making it hard to discern his meaning. The Embroidered Uniform Guards who heard this all secretly cursed this child for being such a troublemaker, stirring up a perfectly good couple’s relationship.
The Embroidered Uniform Guards saw it this way, but Jiang Ruan didn’t. Having lived with Xuan Pei for many years, she understood his thoughts clearly. Xuan Pei asked this only to force Xiao Shao to take a stance. It seemed the Yao daughter’s matter had caused quite a stir, even alarming Xuan Pei. He was backing her up, worried she might be bullied by Xiao Shao.
“Since the prize is mine to claim, whatever I say goes,” Xiao Shao said icily. “I shall ask His Majesty to arrange a marriage between Your Highness and Miss Yao.”
“Hey!” Xuan Pei jumped up angrily: “You want me to marry that old woman? What audacity!”
Xiao Shao remained silent, clearly being provocative.
Jiang Ruan had a headache—these two could never be peaceful when together. Yao Niannian was at least one of the capital’s top beauties and only seventeen or eighteen years old. Though she was somewhat old for Xuan Pei, she hardly deserved to be called an “old woman.” But if Xuan Pei really married Yao Niannian, Jiang Ruan felt something was wrong. The Yao family had previously coveted Xiao Shao and desired her husband. To have such a person as her son’s wife—she as a mother would be the first to disagree. Besides, if Yao Niannian became a princess consort to Xuan Pei, wouldn’t she have to call her Mother Consort?
Thinking of Yao Niannian and Xuan Pei both calling her mother, Jiang Ruan’s expression became indescribably strange.
“What’s wrong?” Seeing Jiang Ruan lost in thought, Xuan Pei touched her hand: “I… This prince was just joking around. Princess shouldn’t be troubled by this. If Prince Jinying dares to act recklessly, this prince will never forgive him. As for that worthless Miss Yao, hmph—unless her father doesn’t want to continue in court.”
“Why does Your Thirteenth Highness seem like Young Madam’s family member?” Jin San thought about it and suddenly paled: “Oh no, could he be coveting Young Madam’s beauty and trying to create trouble between them?” The more he thought about it, the more possible it seemed, making Jin San nervously watch the group.
Jiang Ruan smiled. Though Xuan Pei was nervous, she went to rummage through the luggage Xiao Shao had brought, wanting to see if there were any pastries to give Xuan Pei. Unexpectedly, she found a Jiaowei qin in the luggage. Even the qin case was quite precious, yet Xiao Shao had casually placed it in a cloth bag. But what surprised Jiang Ruan most was that Xiao Shao had brought this along, so she asked: “You even brought a qin?”
Xiao Shao hummed in acknowledgment. Looking at the long qin case before her, Jiang Ruan suddenly felt Xiao Shao truly respected Old Lin from the bottom of his heart. She had originally thought this qin was merely decorative. Who would carry a qin to a hunting ground? Xiao Shao wasn’t some courtesan playing music in a brothel, yet this truly left her stunned. After being dazed for a while, she remembered the capital rumors that Yao Niannian also played excellent qin. Suddenly she picked up the qin case and walked to Xiao Shao’s side: “Since you brought it anyway, why not play a piece? I’ve never heard your qin music.”
Steward Lin had said Xiao Shao played excellent qin, and Jiang Ruan knew Steward Lin wouldn’t lie about such things. But she was still quite curious. In her previous life, she had never heard that Xiao Shao played well. Her own qin skills weren’t bad either, but the Jiaowei qin had always been harder to play than other qins, requiring extremely peaceful mind. Since her rebirth, she was full of murderous intent—how could she play good qin music? She tried to play as little as possible to avoid revealing her mental state through the music.
Xiao Shao was slightly stunned, not expecting Jiang Ruan to make such a request. He glanced at Xuan Pei, then at the Embroidered Uniform Guards in the distance. Jin Er and the others quickly pretended to look at flowers elsewhere, avoiding eye contact. Xiao Shao coughed lightly: “With so many people here, when we return to the residence…”
“Prince Xiao couldn’t actually be unable to play qin, could you?” Xuan Pei stirred up trouble: “Ah, how rare that the princess wants to hear qin music. This prince heard that newlywed couples should play ancient qin together to achieve the beauty of harmonious music. But seeing Prince Xiao’s expression, you’ve probably never played qin together with the princess. Ah, no matter what, the princess is still a woman, and which woman in this world doesn’t hope for harmonious music with her husband?”
Xuan Pei was naturally refined and delicate, though still bearing some childishness due to his young age. Previously in the imperial palace, his speech and behavior were always formal, dispelling even that childishness. But in front of Jiang Ruan, he couldn’t help showing childish expressions, displaying the liveliness proper for a child his age. These words were quite reasonable and showed considerable maturity.
Xiao Shao stopped speaking, only turning to look at Jiang Ruan. Jiang Ruan looked at him nonchalantly, rarely showing some persistence.
He no longer refused, taking the Jiaowei qin from its case. The qin body was made from some unknown wood, its grain distinct, emanating a deep luster. The fragrance was rich and clear, refreshing to the heart. This qin alone was enough to attract anyone’s attention.
Jin Si rubbed his eyes: “Heavens, am I seeing correctly? Master is actually going to play qin. Since the Prince and Princess’s deaths, Master never touched a qin again. I thought he’d never touch this Jiaowei qin for the rest of his life.”
“Speaking of which, it’s been over ten years since we heard Master’s qin music. Hey, do you remember when Master first learned to use this qin? Every day countless people waited outside the residence gates to listen through the walls. Even women wanted to climb over walls to glimpse our master’s beauty. They say one knows a person through their qin music—I don’t think anyone in this world plays better than our master.”
It had indeed been many years since Xiao Shao touched the Jiaowei qin. Back when Prince Jinying’s residence hadn’t fallen and Xiao Shao hadn’t been branded as a treacherous subject’s son, though he wasn’t as indifferent as now, he was just somewhat aloof. But with his handsome appearance, such tranquility made him even more outstanding and eye-catching. When first learning qin, his peaceful mindset produced beautiful, moving music that drew countless listeners beyond the walls. If he weren’t male, probably all men in Great Jin would be infatuated and all courtesans would feel ashamed.
Xiao Shao placed the qin on his lap. Since they were under the open sky, he needn’t follow formal procedures—no incense burning or hand washing. He simply tuned and plucked the strings casually. Even such simple actions, performed by him, didn’t appear crude or hasty but rather, due to his elegant temperament, seemed flowing and graceful with additional charm and otherworldly quality.
The melody flowed from his hands along the strings, floating with exceptional clarity in the snowy ground. The qin music was ethereal and peaceful, like a small stream flowing into the ocean, where all waves and wind gradually became absorbed without stirring a single ripple. This was the tranquility that came only after experiencing great storms—an invincible spiritual strength, an unshakeable composure and serenity. Behind such strength seemed to be traces of gentle tenderness unconsciously flowing out, bringing warmth even to this frozen landscape.
Jiang Ruan propped her chin, watching the black-robed young master playing qin beside her. He seemed like an elegant noble from a famous capital family—reserved, noble, refined, and aloof. The firelight made his fair features appear like an immortal in a painting, with sword-like brows, starry eyes, straight nose, and thin lips. When his long lashes quietly lowered, hiding myriad emotions in his eyes, only mystery and tenderness remained. Supremely beautiful and bone-deep cold, like mountain spring ice or solitary moonlight through autumn carved window frames—a touch of proud solitude.
Beauty like a painting, painted into beautiful scenery. The qin-playing Xiao Shao was indeed, as Steward Lin said, a magnificent sight in this prosperous age. Such a disaster-causing beauty would probably make people want to steal him after seeing him. Worldly beauty was enchanting, with demons emerging everywhere—truly quite dangerous. Jiang Ruan sighed softly, moved closer to Xiao Shao, and suddenly reached out to cover the strings too.
Xiao Shao was slightly stunned as Jiang Ruan began playing. She played slowly and deliberately, completely different from Xiao Shao’s style. If Xiao Shao was cold, solitary moon, and cold stars, her melody was fire, passion, and blazing sun—vivid and leaping in one’s heart with unavoidable bright intensity. Then in the collision of ice and fire, a miraculous harmony emerged. The two different melodies became seamlessly unified with extraordinary synchronization.
Xiao Shao’s lips curved slightly upward, his hands continuing without pause. Jiang Ruan also smiled. She had always feared exposing her inner self and dared not play qin. Though today’s music couldn’t be called absolutely peaceful, compared to her previous murderous intensity, it was much more tranquil. Perhaps this was because she had achieved Xiao Shao’s level of strength—strong enough to calmly face all ups and downs. Or perhaps it was simply because Xiao Shao was beside her.
Xuan Pei sat quietly to the side, his gaze toward Jiang Ruan seeming complex yet carrying some relief. These two were both extraordinarily beautiful with outstanding temperament and bearing. Though playing together for the first time, they appeared very harmonious, as if born to be together. Jin Er said: “Truly harmonious music.”
“Simply a match made in heaven,” Jin Si shook his head.
Jiang Ruan smiled slightly, finding it amusing. This was clearly a hunt staked on bloody lives, where everyone harbored ulterior motives and dangers lurked everywhere, yet she and Xiao Shao were playing qin here. Before them burned a campfire—Steward Lin had said before leaving that it was just recreational travel, and now his words had come true. She had originally thought that having missed the hunting ground experience in her previous life, this life would reveal its schemes. She hadn’t expected such a different experience—a completely new feeling she’d never had before, and it wasn’t bad.
…
In the large camp at North Guang Forest’s entrance, ladies who couldn’t hunt began retiring to their tents. A woman in dark clothing sat before her tent while her maid smiled: “Miss, earlier guards returning from the forest said they seemed to hear someone playing qin. The music was reportedly exquisite—who knows who had such leisure?”
Yao Niannian smiled slightly: “With wild beasts running rampant in the forest and everyone competing fiercely, it’s rare to find someone with peaceful enough mindset to play qin. Since the music was beautiful, they’re certainly no ordinary person—quite admirable.”
“Who could such a person be?” the maid asked curiously. “Could it be the Eighth Prince? His Eighth Highness is indeed someone with peaceful temperament and excellence.”
Yao Niannian shook her head, smiling without words, only looking toward the deep forest with a sigh, her gaze seeming somewhat sorrowful.