In the 773rd year of Bai Cang’s calendar, in early spring, the Red River Plateau was in the dead of winter. Heavy snow fell, creating a vast expanse of whiteness. The road from the Summer Tang border to Zhen Huang was blocked by heavy snow, cutting off merchant travel. City prices soared, and large numbers of merchants hoarded goods, artificially inflating prices of necessities like oil, rice, tea, and salt. Residents scrambled to buy grain, throwing the imperial capital into chaos. On the sixth day of the third month, the Sacred Gold Palace summoned Mu He Xi Yun, a direct descendant of the Mu He clan, severely reprimanded him, and stripped him of his position as the Capital Prefecture Governor, replacing him with the Emperor’s third son, Zhao Qi. This marked the first time in the empire’s three-hundred-year history that a Zhao descendant had managed the Capital Prefecture office. From then on, the responsibility of guarding the imperial capital’s three armies fell completely into the hands of the royal family.

After Zhao Qi took office, he immediately took control of the Green Army troops and reorganized them. Zhao Qi’s birth mother, Noble Consort Shu, was the full sister of Wei Guang, the head of the Wei clan. Thus, Zhao Qi’s various policies received enthusiastic support from the Wei clan’s commanders. Within three days, the capital’s defenses were completely renewed. On the tenth day of the third month, Zhao Qi led the Green Army troops to the outskirts of Zhen Huang City, personally overseeing the repair of the capital’s roads. For a time, he was celebrated by the capital’s citizens.

At this moment, on the snowy wilderness outside the city, a fast horse suddenly galloped against the wind and snow. Ahead was a vast expanse, desolate and uninhabited. The world was a sheet of white, making it impossible to distinguish east from south, west from north.

Just across a slope, in another expanse of snowy ground, Wu Dao Ya squinted his eyes. He wore a cyan windcap, with long eyebrows adorned with white frost. His face was frozen pale, but his eyes were sharp as they fixed on what lay ahead, his expression calm, revealing nothing of his thoughts.

“Sir,” a small child in a gray large coat ran down from the carriage behind, hurriedly carrying a large fur coat, saying solemnly, “Sir, stop waiting, they won’t come. The snowstorm is too strong. Liu the Bearded says there will be a blizzard later. We should hurry on our way to reach Que Yu Mountain before dark.”

Wu Dao Ya remained motionless as if he hadn’t heard, his eyes still looking ahead without any expression.

“Sir?” The child was stunned, pulling at Wu Dao Ya’s clothes. “Sir?”

“Ming’er, listen.” The man in cyan robes suddenly opened his lips, his tone slightly hoarse, sounding even more solemn in the howling north wind, like autumn wind through the mulberry trees, speaking slowly.

“Listen?” The child frowned, perking up his ears. “Sir, listen to what?”

“Hoofbeats.” Wu Dao Ya said, “They’re coming.”

“Hoofbeats?” Ming’er listened for a long time but could hear nothing except the howling wind. In such weather, even hearing someone speak nearby was difficult, let alone distant hoofbeats. Ming’er grumbled, “Sir, there are no hoofbeats. You must be mistaken. I think we should…”

However, before Ming’er could finish speaking, a rapid and clear sound of hoofbeats suddenly rang out. The child was startled and quickly raised his head. Through the vast white wilderness, a yellow steed gradually appeared at the end of the horizon. The figure on the horse was indistinct. The snow was falling heavier, descending from the sky, fluttering and floating, making visibility increasingly poor. But one could still clearly see that the figure on the horse was somewhat thin as if a gust of wind could blow it away.

“Sir,” Ming’er clicked his tongue in amazement, “you’re magical!”

“Whoa!” A crisp, low call sounded, and the rider nimbly dismounted and ran forward. She wore a heavy cyan wind robe, a huge cloak covering her head and face. Only at the bottom of the hood could one faintly see strands of jet-black hair appearing and disappearing.

“Glad I made it in time.” The woman removed her hood, revealing a thin small face with lips turning blue. She quickly pulled out a stack of rice paper from her bosom and handed it to Wu Dao Ya. The long journey riding against the cold wind had exhausted her, and she spoke while slightly panting, “Keep these safe. Everything is here.”

Wu Dao Ya frowned, looking at the woman’s appearance, seemingly a bit angry. He furrowed his brow and said, “Why didn’t you let someone else come? It’s the coldest time of winter. Has your illness improved?”

The woman shook her head, “No one else could come. Mu He Xi Feng is dead, and that fool Mu He Xi Yun has been demoted. This third prince is not easy to deal with. The organization has lost several brothers in a row. As a woman, they don’t scrutinize me as strictly.”

“Zhao Qi has hidden his abilities for so many years. I didn’t expect him to make such big moves right away. Zhao Zheng De has truly birthed a group of capable sons.”

“Let’s not talk too much now. You should go quickly. This mission is very urgent, with less than a month for the round trip. The young master’s reputation is rising, which has both advantages and disadvantages. If we don’t stabilize the situation now, changes might occur midway.”

Wu Dao Ya nodded, “I understand. You need to be careful.”

“Yes,” the woman nodded. Her face was as white as snow, and her eye sockets seemed to have deepened. She advised, “You too.”

Wu Dao Ya’s gaze turned somewhat gloomy as he looked at the woman’s pale face and frail body. Suddenly, he sighed helplessly, turned around to take the large fur coat from Ming’er’s hands, and draped it over the woman’s shoulders. He lowered his head, carefully fastening the ties for her. His fingers were slender, his gaze gentle, and as he tied, he softly cautioned, “The weather is getting colder. You must take extra care of yourself. This month is neither too long nor too short. The capital’s situation is changing rapidly, and you must be cautious and never rash. Of the fellow disciples from those years, only you and I remain now. A Yu, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Lady Yu lowered her head, remaining silent. Some things in her heart began to grow densely, like flowers breaking through the soil. Too many things crowded her heart, making it hard to know what to say.

“Regarding the organization’s matters, you must also weigh your actions. The rescue of Master Zhu last time, although there were no casualties, exposed two of our secret liaison stations. The higher-ups will inevitably be somewhat disgruntled. If you can endure it, please endure. Don’t lose your temper.”

“Let the noble clans in the imperial city fight amongst themselves; don’t get involved. Our arrangement this time is only to safely rescue the young master. Everything else is irrelevant. Beware of seeking merit and advancing rashly, losing your sense of proportion.”

“Also,” Wu Dao Ya slowly raised his head, his gaze calm like a frozen lake in early winter, concealing the waves and ripples within. Even his voice was rigid, “Your health isn’t good. Take care of yourself and don’t exhaust your heart and blood too much. When things are settled here, I’ll take you to live in Bian Tang for a while. The lakes, mountains, and climate there are mild and most beneficial for your illness.”

After tying the last knot, Wu Dao Ya stepped back two paces, looked at the woman for a moment, then turned and walked away, lightly waving his hand, “Go back now, and be careful on the road.”

“Dao Ya,” Lady Yu suddenly raised her head, her expression somewhat solemn.

“Hmm?” Wu Dao Ya turned his head, raising an eyebrow and softly asking, “Is there something else?”

Lady Yu pressed her lips together, thought for a while, but eventually shook her head, saying, “Nothing. If there is anything, I’ll tell you when you return. Take care.”

Wu Dao Ya looked at the woman. She wasn’t a stunningly beautiful woman; her face was thin, her body frail. Although she was only twenty-seven or twenty-eight, years of fatigue and hardship had prematurely lined the corners of her eyes with fine crow’s feet, and her skin was an unhealthy pale. But such a face gave him so much attachment he couldn’t let go.

Just like today, these weren’t particularly important documents, but he firmly believed she would deliver them personally, to see him one last time, although he still verbally reproached her for not taking care of herself.

Even now, he seemed to remember their first meeting. That day, he was traveling with his master to the imperial capital of Zhen Huang. On the small Smoke Bridge on West Temple Street, they encountered a girl who was being beaten badly by her master for trying to escape. That year, she was only nine, thin and small. Long-term malnutrition had made her skin sallow, and her whole person seemed lifeless. However, only her eyes—so large, so black, so bright—were filled with unyielding resentment and perseverance that would never give up.

At that moment, he knew this child would succeed. No matter how many times she failed, as long as she was still alive, she would certainly escape.

Sure enough, half a month later, at the entrance of a tavern outside Runan City, they encountered this child again, starving and weak yet still refusing to beg. His master took her in and brought her along. From then on, Tian Ji Mountain gained a little sister, and he gained an attachment he couldn’t let go of.

Seven days ago, Xi Hua died on the Left Ling Plains in the Yan Bei. Of the thirteen fellow disciples who had descended from Tian Ji Mountain together, only the two of them remained.

Wu Dao Ya placed his hand on Lady Yu’s shoulder, the force quite strong. He wanted to say something but ultimately suppressed it, “If there’s anything, we’ll talk when I return. I’m leaving now. Take care.”

“Yes,” Lady Yu nodded, “You too.”

Wu Dao Ya boarded the carriage. Liu the Bearded, wearing a dogskin coat, rubbed his hands together, shouted once, and cracked his whip. The warhorse neighed, hooves clattering, and the carriage kicked up a trail of white snow dust, gradually disappearing into the blinding snowstorm.

Whatever matters there were, they could be discussed upon his return.

Lady Yu sighed softly. The icy snowflakes hit her face, reminding her of the Fire Thunder Plains in Yan Bei.

Everything was about to end. If they could successfully rescue the young master in just a few more months, she would be able to retire with her mission accomplished. Then, she could go to Bian Tang. It was warm there, unlike the Red River region where it snowed for most of the year. By then, she would be able to experience the scenes described in books—boating on the emerald lake, smelling lotus fragrance at night.

A Yu lifted her head, taking a deep breath. But the premise was to safely rescue the young master.

She straightened her back, gave a light shout, turned, and rode away.

They had waited for too many years and could continue to wait. Although some words couldn’t be spoken aloud, there would eventually be a day when they could. On that day, the world would be at peace, people would live in harmony, there would be no more slaves, and wars would cease.

The cold wind blew from afar, stirring up small whirlwinds on the flat ground. White snow spiraled upward, like the cycles of fate, rising, then falling, repeating endlessly.

At that moment, in the Sacred Gold Palace, a young woman slowly put down the documents on her desk, walked to the window, and gazed at the fiery sunset clouds on the horizon, lost in thought.

The maid Lü Liu carefully knocked on the door, timidly opened it, and said softly, “Miss, someone is looking for you outside.”

Here, except for Yan Xun, everyone else feared her, because every servant entering the Oriole Song Courtyard had been subjected to her strict interrogation. Being a national intelligence agent in her previous life and repeatedly battling at the edge of life and death in this life had made her cautious and vigilant about everything.

The woman slightly raised her eyebrow, “Who is it?”

“The guard didn’t say,” Lü Liu answered softly, “It was Commander Song from the Front Gate who came to announce it personally.”

“Song Que?” Chu Qiao said puzzledly. The visitor’s identity was not simple, not only able to freely enter the Sacred Gold Palace but was also able to direct Song Que to deliver a message to her. Who could it be?

“Go tell Commander Song I’ll be right there.”

Putting on her fox fur coat, and securing her defensive dagger, Chu Qiao opened the door of the Oriole Song Courtyard. Song Que’s face, unchanged for years, immediately appeared before her. The young woman sighed inwardly; such an officer who didn’t understand human relations, no wonder when she first entered the palace he was guarding the front gate, and now he was still guarding the front gate, without any advancement.

After many twists and turns, they arrived at the Jade Plum Pavilion in the back palace garden. This was a place Zhao Song quite liked. When she was young, she often secretly came here to receive aid from Zhao Song. Now, however, it had been a long time since she had visited.

The woods were still the same, only the plum trees seemed a bit thicker now. It was the perfect season for plum blossoms, and the entire garden was filled with a subtle fragrance. Commander Song silently withdrew, and Chu Qiao walked in alone. After a few steps, she saw the visitor’s shadow.

“Miss Xing’er.”

After several years, Zhu Cheng had become somewhat portly, with a round belly, but still maintained a smiling face, showing no displeasure at Chu Qiao’s betrayal of the Zhuge family.

Chu Qiao’s expression remained unchanged, her voice calm as she said, “Steward Zhu, my surname is Chu.”

Zhu Cheng quickly smiled apologetically and said, “Miss Chu, I have come on my young master’s orders.”

“Young master?” The young woman coldly snorted, respectful yet icy as she asked, “Which young master?”

Zhu Cheng was slightly taken aback but still answered, “The fourth young master of the Zhuge family, Zhuge Yue.”

“What does he want with me?”

“This is what the young master instructed me to bring to you, miss.” A long cyan cloth wrapped a slender sword. Just from the hilt, Chu Qiao knew it was the precious sword she had used to kill Zha Lu’s subordinates on the night of the hunt.

“The young master said to return your sword to you now, and also requests that you return his precious sword.”

“I don’t have it with me,” Chu Qiao raised an eyebrow, saying solemnly, “You should have told me what this was about beforehand, so I could have brought the sword.”

“Ah?” Zhu Cheng was stunned, “But I told Commander Song!”

Chu Qiao’s head darkened; telling him was the same as not saying anything at all. She reached out to take the sword, saying, “I’ll take the sword first, and later I’ll send someone to deliver your master’s precious sword.”

“Miss Chu,” Zhu Cheng’s face showed difficulty, “The young master said that neither of you wants any entanglements with the other, and matters should be resolved promptly, not dragged out. How about this: I’ll wait here for you, and trouble you to go back and fetch it. Someone else can bring it to me.”

Neither wants any entanglements with the other.

Chu Qiao raised an eyebrow slightly, took back the precious sword, and said solemnly, “Fine.”

Then, she turned and left.

Weapons were not allowed in the Sacred Gold Palace. Although no one would search her, Chu Qiao still placed the sword inside her large fur coat, lowered her head, and walked quickly toward the Oriole Song Courtyard.

In two more days, she would report to the Xiao Qi camp for duty. The Summer Emperor’s appointment had puzzled the entire court for a long time.

The Emperor had begun to heavily utilize people from Yan Bei. What did this mean? Did it mean the Emperor would let bygones be bygones and allow Yan Xun to return to Yan Bei and succeed to the throne, to stabilize the hearts of the vassal kings throughout the empire?

This was impossible. For many years, the attacks, marginalization, and internal strife against Yan Xun in the Sacred Gold Palace had been completely ignored by the Summer Emperor. Although he had never personally acted, as an emperor, his attitude of neglect was encouragement for others with ulterior motives to eliminate Yan Xun’s root and branch. If not for the caution of Yan Xun and Chu Qiao, they might have long since died from one round of hidden arrows and secret plots after another.

The Summer Emperor had once killed Yan Xun’s parents and brothers in front of him and had once overnight cast this noble of the celestial dynasty into the hell of suffering. So he absolutely would not let the tiger return to the mountain by allowing Yan Xun to return to Yan Bei. It wasn’t that he hadn’t acted; it was just that those who acted hadn’t succeeded. Now, as the day of Yan Xun’s return approached, how could he allow all his efforts to be wasted by handing over Yan Bei to this wolf cub filled with hatred?

So, what was the intention behind the Summer Emperor’s appointment? Almost everyone in Zhen Huang City knew that the slave girl Chu Qiao was Yan Xun’s strongest support. This girl, not yet fifteen years old, had protected the Yan heir through numerous life-and-death situations over the past seven years, with agile movements and superb martial arts. Could it be that the Summer Emperor truly liked this outstanding girl and wanted to recruit and cultivate her? Or was it to cut off Yan Xun’s wings, to prevent any hindrances when he eventually acted?

No one knew why. All the guesses were merely surface-level. Chu Qiao knew things weren’t so simple; she just hadn’t figured out the key to the problem yet.

Passing around Long Xuan Street, she reached Xuan Men Road, with towering red walls on both sides, and yellow tiles covered with thick white snow.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded. Chu Qiao frowned. Had she remembered incorrectly? Was there a court meeting today?

There was no time to think further. Those who could enter the inner hall of the Sacred Gold Palace for deliberations were all officials of the third rank or above. Given her status, she had to kneel and avoid them.

The young woman walked to a corner of the wall, leaned against it, and knelt, lowering her head in silence. The large fox fur coat covered her eyebrows and eyes, exposing only a section of fair, smooth neck.

The footsteps gradually approached. However, upon reaching her side, they didn’t pass by. A deep voice sounded above her head, “Raise your head.”

Chu Qiao frowned and slowly straightened up.

Enemies crossing paths—today was truly an unlucky day.