The horse galloped rapidly, cold wind whistling past their ears. The chaotic sounds gradually faded away until only the sound of hoofbeats hitting the ground could be heard. Though small, the chestnut horse was of excellent breed, running like lightning with unstoppable momentum. Chu Qiao’s small hands tightly gripped the horse’s mane as she lowered herself against the horse’s back, calmly surveying the surrounding terrain, her little mind racing.

Jing Yue’er’s undeveloped body was not yet strong enough to withstand the pain of falling from a horse running at such speed. She had to find another way to escape.

Just then, the sound of urgent hoofbeats suddenly came from behind, quickly catching up to Chu Qiao. Two riders galloped side by side.

“Beg me, and I’ll save you!”

The young man’s voice was fragmented by the cold wind, but still reached Chu Qiao’s ears in broken segments. The child turned her small, jade-like face and glared fiercely at the gloating young man, her gaze resolute without the slightest hint of panic.

“Then tell me what that hand gesture meant, and I’ll save you!”

The night wind was desolate, the cold moon like a knife. The small horse ran through snow deep enough to reach an adult’s knees, gradually slowing down but showing no signs of stopping. Seizing the opportunity, Chu Qiao suddenly released her hands, pushed off from the horse’s back, and leaped toward the young man beside her.

With a thud, the child’s entire body landed on the young man. He cried out in surprise and hurriedly pulled on the reins, but it was too late. The two tumbled from the black horse-like rolling gourds, landing in the soft snow and rolling several times. The black horse, oblivious, continued chasing after the small red horse, quickly disappearing into the night without a trace.

“Jifeng!” the young man called out anxiously, his eyebrows raised in concern. Without time to brush the snow from his body, he staggered forward a few steps in pursuit, but it was futile.

“That horse of yours should be taken back and slaughtered. It’s bad enough not knowing it’s been tampered with, but now it doesn’t even notice when its master falls off. What use is keeping it?” Chu Qiao got up from the ground, brushed the snow from her body, and examined herself—no injuries, good.

Yan Xun turned around, glaring fiercely at Chu Qiao, saying angrily, “Jifeng is a treasured horse my father just hunted from the Yan Bei region. He’s been with me less than half a month and we’re not yet familiar with each other. What’s strange about that? As for you, boldly letting my horse run away, what punishment do you deserve?”

Chu Qiao snorted lightly, saying disdainfully, “I didn’t ask you to follow me. If you can’t control your horse, what does that have to do with me?”

“How dare you speak to me this way?”

Chu Qiao frowned, looking contemptuously at this young Yan Bei heir who had such grand airs despite his young age. She gave a cold snort and turned to walk toward Zhenhuang City.

Yan Xun was stunned, not expecting her to simply walk away. He quickly followed a few steps and asked, “Where are you going?”

Chu Qiao raised an eyebrow: “Back, of course. Unless you want to spend the night here?”

The snow was deep, reaching past Chu Qiao’s knees in shallow areas and almost up to the child’s thighs in deeper spots. Yan Xun walked beside Chu Qiao, seeing her struggle with each step. His earlier frustration about losing his horse immediately dissipated, and he followed alongside her with a smile. However, after just a few steps, joy turned to sorrow as the ground beneath him gave way. Before he could even cry out, his entire body suddenly sank.

As soon as she heard the cracking sound, Chu Qiao realized something was wrong. Almost simultaneously, the child instinctively reached out and grabbed Yan Xun’s arm. Unfortunately, Jing Yue’er’s small body could hardly bear Yan Xun’s weight. With a loud crash, both of them fell into a large snow pit.

“Hmm… hey, are you alright?” Yan Xun emerged from the snow, digging vigorously in the snow pile. Upon seeing a small white hand, he immediately pulled Chu Qiao out like uprooting a radish, shaking her head and shouting, “Are you dead?”

“Let go.” The child frowned with annoyance. She moved her foot slightly and winced in pain, her brows furrowing even more tightly.

The Yan Bei heir grew anxious: “Are you hurt?”

“Not enough to die.” Chu Qiao looked up, noting that the height wasn’t too great, then turned to Yan Xun and asked, “Can you climb up?”

Yan Xun estimated the distance, then shook his head: “The snow here is too soft. If this were flat ground, I could jump up, but not here. We’d only sink deeper.”

“We’ll freeze to death overnight,” Chu Qiao muttered, standing up. “Step on my shoulders to climb up first, then find someone to rescue me.”

Yan Xun shook his head: “I’ll help you up first, then you go find someone to rescue me.”

Chu Qiao was startled, looking Yan Xun up and down, then nodded: “Alright.”

After tremendous effort, when Chu Qiao finally saw the full moon in the sky, she felt as if she had survived a life-or-death ordeal. She lay at the edge of the snow pit, looking down at Yan Xun still trapped in the hole, and called out loudly, “Wait here, I’ll go get help.”

Yan Xun smiled and waved: “Go quickly!”

Her ankle was very painful, apparently twisted when they fell. Chu Qiao endured the pain and walked a few steps when suddenly a thought occurred to her. The child unconsciously stopped, her eyes narrowing slightly, a chill running down her spine.

What if she just turned and left? Given how remote this wilderness was, Yan Xun would surely die tonight. Would that mean she had avenged her family? Remembering her first day here, the hunting grounds with flowing blood, sharp arrows, and small bodies, Chu Qiao’s heart began to beat faster. Although most of those deadly arrows came from the two Zhao brothers, and though the Yan heir’s arrows mostly struck evil wolves, and even though he was later mocked by the Zhuge brothers for being soft-hearted, and even though he trusted her so much now, smiling and telling her to go quickly and come back soon…

The child stood in the vast white wilderness, her eyes as dark as ink, flashing with intense sharpness.

With a thud, a withered tree branch taller than a person was thrown into the snow pit, nearly hitting Yan Xun’s head. Before Chu Qiao could even show her face, she heard Yan Xun’s angry roar: “Are you trying to kill me?”

Chu Qiao impatiently rolled her eyes: “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t have gone to so much trouble. Hurry up and climb out.”

Yan Xun was agile and quickly climbed up. He looked Chu Qiao up and down, then smiled with a twitch of his lips: “I thought you might abandon this villain and walk away.”

Chu Qiao gave him a cold look: “I only blame myself for not being heartless enough.”

Yan Xun laughed heartily, ran a few steps to her front, and bent slightly at the waist, saying, “Come on, as payment for not being heartless enough to abandon me, I’ll carry you back.”

Chu Qiao looked him up and down suspiciously: “You’re willing to do something so beneath your dignity?”

“The Young Master is in a good mood.”

Chu Qiao said no more. Just when Yan Xun thought she was unwilling, he suddenly felt a weight on his back—a soft, small body.

The ground was white as frost, the snow reflecting light, creating a brilliantly white scene. This was the first time in Yan Xun’s life that he had carried someone, and his movements were somewhat awkward. He shifted uncomfortably a couple of times. Chu Qiao extended her delicate small hand and slapped his neck with a smack: “Be still, I’m about to fall off.”

Yan Xun was startled, but indeed became much steadier, carrying Chu Qiao slowly across the open field.

“Hey, do you know how far we’ve walked?”

The child calmly replied: “Less than the time it takes to burn an incense stick. It will take about an hour to walk back.”

Yan Xun nodded: “You’re called Xing’er?”

“How do you know?”

“I heard that maid you framed say it last time at the cliff.”

The Yan heir seemed to be in a very good mood tonight. Seeing that Chu Qiao didn’t respond, he continued asking: “What’s your real name? What’s your surname?”

Chu Qiao gave a light snort: “Why should I tell you?”

“Fine, don’t tell me,” Yan Xun snorted. “I don’t want to hear it anyway. Sooner or later, you’ll be crying and begging me to listen.”

“Then you can wait patiently for that day.”

Yan Xun frowned: “You’re just a child, why do you speak with such an old-fashioned tone?”

The child on his back curled her lip disdainfully: “And you’re all not much older, so why are your methods so cruel and vicious?”

Yan Xun was startled, then laughed: “My goodness, you hold grudges.”

The child’s voice became somewhat desolate, turning cold and indifferent: “You don’t hold grudges because you’ve never had arrows pointed at you.”

The strong wind howled, and Yan Xun suddenly felt cold. He opened his mouth to retort but ultimately said nothing. The distinctions of high and low, noble and common that he had believed in for many years seemed somewhat inappropriate to mention in front of this child at this moment. Some things, when everyone says they’re right, you naturally think they’re right too, even if deep in your heart, you don’t think so. The cold moonlight shone on the snow, making the two children’s silhouettes appear somewhat thin and fragile.

At that moment, the sudden sound of urgent hoofbeats came from the distance. Yan Xun perked up, saying, “My people have come.”

The child resting on his back furrowed her brow slightly, tilting her ear to listen. The hoofbeats were chaotic as if a large army was approaching, along with the sound of many people running. From ahead, the snow mist surged like silver dragons and white snakes, expanding from a thin line to a vast expanse, surging forward majestically.

The child narrowed her eyes slightly, parted her rosy lips, and said slowly: “It seems they are not your people.”

Today’s second update. There won’t be a third update. Meeting adjourned.