Eight years had passed, and she finally returned to this place.

The winter sun hung high, and the snow plain stretched out flat and boundless. Chu Qiao sat straight-backed on her horse, looking at the fluttering banners on the snow plain before her. Colorful memories poured forth like floodwaters released from a dam.

Eight years ago, on this very snow plain, she had opened her eyes for the first time on the Ximeng Continent. Overwhelming bloodshed and nauseating slaughter had swept over her, and she had run barefoot in tattered clothes across the vast wilderness with nowhere to escape. Today, time had flown by in an instant, and she now sat on horseback, facing a group of shivering children in cages across from her. The bow in her hand nearly broke piece by piece.

“Ah Chu.” Yan Xun rode forward on his horse and turned his head to look at her, his brows slightly furrowed: “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Chu Qiao shook her head. “I’m fine.”

With a rumbling drum sound, despite the bitter cold, a bare-chested man on a distant platform was enthusiastically beating the war drum. The rumbling beats seemed to burrow up from underground and penetrate one’s spinal cord. The man was sweating profusely, a red cloth wrapped around his head, shouting as he beat the drum. The servants of the Mu He family shouted in unison, all wearing high-grade soft armor made of sea sand cyan leather, with gold-inlaid belts around their waists. The group standing together was dazzlingly garish in the sunlight—their wealth and ostentation inevitably giving off a vulgar, nouveau riche impression.

“The Mu He clan truly deserves to be the first family of the Council of Elders. Even their servants wear sea sand cyan armor. Indeed, they hold high positions and wield great power, with abundant wealth and ostentation.”

Chu Qiao glanced sideways and saw a handsome young man with narrow eyes sitting in a deep purple fur tent hidden behind the banners. He was eighteen or nineteen years old, with a face as white as jade and lips as red as blood. He wore a coat made of southern wilderness Yuzhuo feathers with a snow hawk collar, appearing all the more dignified.

This person was also an old acquaintance of Chu Qiao’s. Back then, in this season on this land, he had also pointed an arrow at her.

The Young Prince Jing took a sip of tea, smiling as he leaned forward and said to the son of Prince Ling beside him: “Zhongyuan, Prince Ling is also considered wealthy in his own right. I wonder if he has equipped a personal guard with sea sand cyan?”

Zhao Zhongyuan, in his early twenties and of decent appearance, chuckled and replied casually: “We are a small domain on the border of Lingxi. How could we afford such extravagance? Jing Han, are you making fun of me?”

“What’s so great about sea sand cyan? One of these days, I’ll equip a guard with Biluo silk. Now that would be extravagant.”

The Young Prince Jing and Prince Ling’s son laughed heartily. Le Yi, the eldest son of General Le Xing, placed his hand on the speaking youth’s shoulder and laughed: “Thirteenth Prince if you truly equipped a guard with Biluo silk, even the Crown Prince of Bian Tang would have to bow to you in admiration.”

Zhao Song raised an eyebrow, about to speak, when suddenly he caught sight of a slender, delicate figure behind the many guards and banners. He immediately jumped up from his chair, turned, and ran out, shouting as he went: “Wait for me to come back and debate with you all!”

“Ha, you’ve come too!”

Pushing through the crowd, the young man grabbed the girl’s hand and exclaimed excitedly.

Yan Xun stood behind Chu Qiao, his eyes slightly narrowed, but then he nodded faintly: “Thirteenth Prince.”

“Young Master Yan, I haven’t seen you for quite some time. Where have you been?”

Yan Xun smiled and nodded: “I am but an idle person, spending my days wandering in Yingge Villa, with no proper business to attend to.”

“Hehe, stop being modest.” Zhao Song laughed, revealing a set of gleaming white teeth: “Just a few days ago, Teacher Fu was using your poetry as an example for us to study. Hey, why do you always use such obscure words? I looked at it for half a day and couldn’t understand it. I was punished to copy it two hundred times. Little De is still writing it for me in the palace.”

“Oh? Has the Thirteenth Prince not yet graduated from the Imperial Academy?”

“Three more months,” Zhao Song said, glancing at Chu Qiao, and chuckled: “In three more months, I’ll be eighteen and can establish my residence and marry a princess consort.”

“Is that so,” Yan Xun said: “Then congratulations to the Thirteenth Prince.”

“No need, no need. Just prepare a grand gift when the time comes.” Zhao Song said with a smile, then tugged at Chu Qiao’s sleeve: “Young Master Yan, may I borrow your person for a while?”

Yan Xun glanced sideways at Chu Qiao, and seeing that she had no objection, nodded with a faint smile.

“Haha, Young Master Yan, thank you! Ah Chu, come with me!”

The two figures quickly disappeared into the crowd. Yan Xun, in his long black fur coat, with black glossy hair and eyes like the sea, gradually lost their warmth as he gazed into the distance.

“Ah Chu, look, what is this?”

Chu Qiao took the golden box that Zhao Song was carefully protecting. Upon opening it, she found long wooden sticks with red powder on the tips, looking strangely familiar.

“Matches?” the girl frowned slightly: “For lighting fires?”

“Ah! Ah Chu, you’re amazing!” Zhao Song exclaimed, giving a thumbs up: “How do you know everything? These were tributes to the Emperor from the Frankish people from the West Sea. I’m seeing them for the first time. Look, just striking like this lights a fire. Isn’t it magical?”

Chu Qiao smiled faintly and nodded, flicking Zhao Song’s forehead, and said with a smile: “Yes, it’s magical. You should put away such magical things.”

“Ah Chu!” Zhao Song covered his head and cried out in dismay: “I told you not to flick my head.”

Chu Qiao shrugged her shoulders, “Fine, I won’t flick it.”

“Ah Chu,” Zhao Song moved in front of Chu Qiao and said seriously: “I have important matters to discuss with you. How could you come to the hunt with Yan Xun today? Don’t you know that Zhuge Yue has returned? If he sees you, wouldn’t that be a disaster?”

Chu Qiao felt warmth in her heart and patted Zhao Song’s shoulder, saying: “Don’t worry, I have my ways.”

“Ah,” Zhao Song sighed: “You always have your ways, and I’ve worried for nothing again.”

“Not at all,” Chu Qiao said with a smile: “You let me know that you’re concerned for me means you still consider me a friend. I appreciate your sentiment.”

“You appreciate it?” Zhao Song immediately became interested, smiling as he leaned closer: “Then don’t go back to Yan Bei with Yan Xun. Stay and keep me company instead?”

“No,” Chu Qiao immediately refused: “Anything else is fine, but not this.”

Zhao Song immediately sighed, his shoulders drooping, with an expression that said, “I knew it would be like this.”

Counting the years, they had known each other for a full six or seven years. After entering the palace with Yan Xun, everyone treated her as Yan Xun’s maid and bodyguard. No one questioned her identity or investigated the background of this young child. All those who knew the truth about Yan Xun had already died, and the servants of the Zhuge family had no opportunity to enter the palace to see her. The only one who knew everything, Zhuge Yue, had, for some unknown reason, kept his mouth tightly shut and, one month after the incident, left Zhenhuang for Wolong Mountain to recuperate from illness, never to return.

These nobles of the celestial dynasty, although each had seen her at the initial hunting ground, how would such haughty individuals spare a second glance for a disheveled little slave? Even Wei Shu You, who harbored a deep hatred for her, only regarded her as Yan Xun’s servant, and the several times he sought revenge, it was aimed at Yan Xun without any additional complications.

However, these peaceful days changed after meeting Zhao Song. This young prince, who had only met her twice before, immediately recognized the little maid from the Zhuge mansion who had repeatedly played tricks on him. But he was kind enough not to reveal it, and even secretly helped Yan Xun and Chu Qiao when the royal nobles collectively attacked them, helping them overcome one crisis after another.

Honestly speaking, he was also the only friend the two had in the imperial capital.

Unfortunately, Zhao Zhengde was his father, and he was a prince of Great Xia. On this point, Yan Xun probably could never reconcile himself.