On the fourteenth day of the third month, the sky was high and the wind was clear. Winter plum blossoms were in full bloom. Snow began to fall at noon, and everything seemed ordinary. The nobles of the imperial capital remained immersed in discussions about the Yan Bei Prince’s upcoming marriage to Princess Chun, the most noble-blooded princess. Various speculations and calculations circulated as undercurrents surged both inside and outside the imperial city.

However, amidst all this chaos, no one noticed that the Green Army’s city defense troops changed shifts an hour early, and the west gate had been partially opened since early morning, also an hour earlier than usual.

When he received this news, Yan Xun was drinking tea in the flower hall, dressed in light robes with a leisurely expression. Musicians in the outer corridor were playing a tune called “West Boat Flower Night,” with melodious and winding notes.

Yan Xun’s lips curled into a faint smile. A Jing stood nearby, quietly waiting for Yan Xun’s instructions, but Yan Xun merely waved his hand dismissively, ordering him to leave. He then drew a music tag from the box beside him and casually tossed it out.

The music paused, then stopped. The elderly court musician picked up the music tag from the ground, glanced at it briefly, and his expression changed slightly. Immediately, the powerful and fierce sound of a zither resonated through the air, intense and sharp as if cutting through metal and stone.

Yan Xun laughed heartily, tapping along with the music, and recited loudly: “Drunk, I grasp the killing sword, beheading eight hundred enemies. Intoxicated in body and spirit, I hold snow to bury the fallen red.”

Chu Qiao stood outside the door, her fingers slightly chilled. She raised her head to look at the vast sky where white snow danced and black eagles circled overhead, letting out shrill cries.

How quickly the turmoil had come! Like the autumn grasslands after a spark is dropped, it spreads rapidly, raging like wildfire, instantly becoming overwhelming.

In the afternoon, after the snow cleared, a memorial from a minor clerk in the Ministry of Revenue was delivered to the Council of Elders. It stated that the ministry lacked sufficient funds and grain for the birthday celebration, and that relief grain meant for the central provinces had been embezzled, causing starving disaster victims to raid wealthy households with countless injuries. Someone had privately exchanged spoiled rice for the rations of soldiers in the eastern camp, resulting in poisoning deaths and the mutiny of half of the 41st Army, with casualties of over ten thousand. Wealthy aristocratic families had embezzled funds for personal gain. The report included a series of terrifying figures.

One stone stirred a thousand waves. All the storms in the imperial capital arose from this small Revenue Ministry clerk.

What followed was an astonishingly rapid investigation and reassignment. The Elder Council’s order was instantly disrupted, and fiery manifestos from the military quickly followed, written with blood and tears, forceful in every word. The great clans became alarmed and rushed to take action. An hour later, a shocking conclusion was presented: the central province disaster relief was under the jurisdiction of the capital prefect, and before Zhao Qi took office, it had been managed by Mu He Xi Feng. The grain allocation matter was handled by the grain department chief Song Duan, and everyone in the capital knew that Song Duan was the most beloved grandson of the former Mu He clan patriarch Mu He Yun Ting, with a status comparable to that of the eldest son of the direct line. The capital prefect’s office had embezzled 800,000 taels of gold, and the grain department had empty accounts totaling 20 million gold pieces.

The Elder Council took immediate action, submitting a memorial to the Sacred Gold Palace. The Mu He clan patriarch Mu He Yun Ye knelt for a long time at the palace gate, begging the emperor for mercy, while counterattacking by claiming that the minor clerk was part of the Wei faction and that all the data provided was false and unreliable.

Unexpectedly, the Sacred Gold Palace used the pretext of Princess Eight’s betrothal to the Yan Bei Prince to close the main hall doors and refuse visitors. However, while Mu He Yun Ye continued to kneel, a secret order was quietly issued from the Purple Gold Gate: The Mu He clan had embezzled a massive amount and severely neglected their duties. The imperial third son Zhao Qi was specially commanded to lead 20,000 Green Army troops to search the Mu He mansion, arrest all suspects, and execute any who resisted on the spot!

In an instant, thunder and wind shook, leaving a scene of desolation.

This would later become known as the Capital’s Bloody Night.

Just as Zhao Qi was secretly leading the Green Army troops to the Mu He mansion, the imperial tailor shop delivered the noble attire for the betrothal banquet. Yan Xun stood in the main hall, respectfully seeing off the official from the tailor shop, offering generous gifts and rewards to all accompanying personnel.

The treasured garments offered by the Western Tribute, the world-renowned blind embroidery of Su Jin, featured coiled dragons with fierce five-clawed designs, brilliant gold embroidery thread meticulously delineating details, almost bringing the patterns to life. Chu Qiao knelt to fasten Yan Xun’s jade-studded golden belt, and the intense fragrance of frankincense invaded her nostrils, making it difficult to breathe.

The room was quiet, the servants had all departed. Chu Qiao’s silhouette in the lamplight appeared somewhat frail, her neck fair and delicate, her ear lobes snow-white and adorable, her chest slightly protruding. She was no longer the tomboy who could once pass flawlessly for a young man.

Yan Xun exhaled softly and asked slowly: “Ah Chu, when is your birthday?”

Chu Qiao stood behind him, adjusting his shoulder straps, and replied: “I don’t remember.”

Yan Xun was stunned, thinking she was unwilling to tell him: “You’re almost sixteen now, almost time for your coming-of-age ceremony.”

Chu Qiao shook her head: “What use do I have for such formalities?”

Yan Xun immediately fell silent, opened his mouth wanting to say something, but didn’t know how to begin.

Chu Qiao moved around to face him, frowning as she looked at the Qinghai cloud pattern on the front of his robe. One corner had a loose thread, and she wasn’t sure if it was intentional by the tailor shop or an oversight.

“Take it off, I’ll fix the thread.”

Yan Xun was surprised: “You know how to do this?”

Chu Qiao raised an eyebrow slightly, looking at him: “Who mended your clothes when you were little?”

A woman sits beneath the lamp, her twin brows knitted like smoke.

Yan Xun’s thoughts seemed to drift far away. How could he have forgotten those cold snowy nights, the drafty room, cold and gloomy, with the girl sitting beside the charcoal brazier, using the weak candlelight to embroider handkerchiefs and garments for the noble court ladies, stitch by stitch, to please the lazy palace servants and earn that pitiful bit of food and coal?

He could still recall her posture, bent over, her small frame, sometimes so tired she could barely keep her eyes open, so she would rest her head on her knees for a brief nap. Her profile was peaceful, never complained.

Over the years, he had tried hard to control himself and not think back to those past experiences, afraid that those memories would cloud his judgment with hatred. So he had forgotten how this girl had supported him through those lonely, difficult times. She cooked for him and mended his clothes, she kept watch for him, and she sought medicine for him when he was ill. She taught him to abandon those empty, showy martial arts stances and taught him close combat, and practical techniques with a knife, spear, and staff. She wrote military strategies for him, and she endured silently to stay in this enormous prison for him, suffering bullying and beatings without a word of complaint.

This girl, thin and small, without power or influence, possessed the strongest heart in the world. When his entire world collapsed, she used her frail shoulders to support his shattered sky, risking her life to maintain a space for survival.

“Done,” the girl stood up, walked in front of him, and said: “Try it on. The betrothal banquet is in two hours, there can’t be any mistakes.”

A soft sigh suddenly escaped the man’s lips. He opened his arms and immediately embraced the young woman, resting his chin on top of her head, and wearily whispered: “Ah Chu.”

Chu Qiao was startled, her entire body instantly stiffening. She gently pushed at Yan Xun’s arms: “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

“Don’t move,” Yan Xun said softly. “Just let me hold you for a moment.”

Chu Qiao’s body gradually softened. She slowly extended her arms and embraced Yan Xun’s waist, her forehead against his chest, saying nothing more.

“Ah Chu, don’t blame me.”

Yan Xun said softly, his voice deep and hoarse, like the autumn wind through hibiscus.

“Over these years, I’ve done many things you don’t like. On the surface, you’re cold, killing without hesitation, but I know that deep down, you’re truly someone who distinguishes between right and wrong. The tea merchants from Lingnan, the ship owners of Huai River, the rice merchants of Shengcheng, and those Yan Bei officials who disobeyed orders… The blood on my hands is so heavy.”

“I just don’t want to be like before, watching people around me being bullied and killed while I’m powerless to help. But now, despite all my efforts and all I’ve done, I’m still being manipulated, unable to follow my own heart, unable to protect you.”

Chu Qiao’s eyes flickered slightly, slowly pursing her lips. A warm current flowed through her heart, carrying those inexplicable, indescribable emotions that gnawed at her spirit like ants. She understood, but still shook her head and said: “I understand everything. You don’t need to worry about me. Those soldiers from the Xiao Qi Camp can hardly do anything to me.”

Unable to see the young woman’s expression, only hearing her words, Yan Xun was momentarily stunned and unconsciously loosened his grip.

She still didn’t understand, or perhaps, she simply didn’t take this matter to heart.

Yan Xun nodded silently: “Alright, then be careful.”

Chu Qiao also nodded: “Don’t worry. I won’t accompany you to the grand banquet later. You’ll be on your own, so be careful.”

As she turned to leave, Yan Xun’s voice suddenly became low, sounding faintly from behind: “Ah Chu.”

The woman paused and stopped.

“Anyone else can betray me, but not you. Anyone else can leave me, but not you.”

Chu Qiao did not answer, standing silently, then opening the door and stepping out.

Yan Xun slowly closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair, murmuring to himself: “If you leave, I’ll have nothing left.”

The courtyard was lightly covered with snow. The woman wore a light cyan robe with a white fox fur coat that Yan Xun had personally given her. Her long hair was caught by the breeze, flying in strands. She silently turned back to look at the silhouette in the window, lingering for a long time.

Unlike the coldness here, outside the Oriole Song Pavilion, royal clan members filled the seats, surrounded by festivity. Colorful glazed porcelain and jade were arranged in front of the pavilion, in rows extending to Princess Eight Zhao Chun’er’s Duanmu Tower. Red brocade was spread over the snow, with palace maids in colorful attire on both sides, and ornate lanterns burning brightly.

At the first watch, crowds gathered in Duanmu Tower. The emperor attended in person, guests rejoiced, and the clamor of silk and bamboo music drifted from the direction of Duanmu Tower. On the deserted Chang Hua Road, a war horse stood silently to one side. A woman in the short military uniform of the Xiao Qi Camp, with a cyan cape outside, turned her head from afar to look toward the brilliant lights, her expression calm and composed.

The night was desolate, the wind cold, the world between heaven and earth utterly solitary and lonely. The cold wind blew the strands of hair from her forehead, making her small face appear even more thin and desolate.

This path is one I chose for myself, with no way to retreat from the beginning, only forward.

Life has never given me the right to regret, and I will never allow useless emotions to obstruct my steps forward. With vengeance not yet achieved and life uncertain from day to day, how can there be room for personal feelings?

Yan Xun, I will stay by your side, waiting for the moment when you achieve great success and stand tall in the world. Only the weak indulge in sentimentality, and only the incapable complain. I won’t do that. I am not sad, never.

The great bell suddenly rang, and fireworks filled the sky, blooming amid the high, official announcement of the ceremony’s completion. The sound of silk and bamboo music rose along with the bell, and the lively voices of people carried from Duanmu Tower, the whole world celebrating this solemn and joyous moment.

“Hya!”

In the cold wind, the thin young woman suddenly raised her whip, shouted sharply, pressed her lips tightly, and galloped away on her horse.

The cold night was desolate. In the lively great hall, Yan Xun stood tall, looking at the dark sky outside the hall, wordless for a long time.

In a small chamber of the quiet Oriole Song Pavilion, the snow-white fox fur coat lay silently on the table, immaculate and as neat as new.

“We have been friends for eight years, sharing fortunes and misfortunes, facing hardships together. Now, everything is about to end. When things are settled here, we’ll return to Yan Bei, and we’ll…”

We’ll…

We’ll get married, we’ll be together, we’ll never be apart again…

Those unspoken words, unspoken feelings, were eventually slowly covered by the dust of years, falling into the dust, never again to see the shadow of days past. Fate is like a great fire; often, opportunity comes only once, and if missed, it might be many years before it comes again.

Outside the city at the gate of the Xiao Qi Camp, the young woman used the imperial token to knock on the main gate of the camp, boldly walking into this most valiant army of the empire.

Amid the cold armor and majestic military songs, in front of the central military tent, a soldier carefully woke the sleeping general.

Zhao Che rose in his armor, his eyebrows slightly raised, and said in a deep voice: “Chu Qiao?”

“Let her in!”

Just as his commanding tone fell, suddenly from the northwest corner of the Zhen Huang City sky came the sound of fierce fighting and screams!

Zhao Che was startled and hurried out of the tent without even putting on his boots. He saw that in the northwest corner of the sky, flames were raging, battle cries shook the heavens, and chaos erupted like a plague. The Green Army troops, who had already left the city to build roads, quickly gathered in front of the Xiao Qi Camp, with cold blades and armored soldiers.

Something serious had happened!

Zhao Che raised his eyebrows and shouted sternly to the guards on both sides: “Bring weapons!”

“Wait!”

A cold voice suddenly sounded. Chu Qiao, who was waiting outside for the audience, grabbed Zhao Che’s wrist and said calmly: “You can’t go.”

Her voice carried such strong confidence and power that Zhao Che momentarily didn’t realize this commoner was gripping his wrist. Instead, he asked in a deep voice: “Why?”

“Look over there, whose mansion is that?”

Zhao Che was stunned, looked intently, and suddenly remembered a surname he most wished not to recall.

The Mu He clan!

“If you go, the entire Xiao Qi Camp will pay for your rashness. I don’t want to be implicated on my first day,” the woman calmly released her grip and said coldly. “Besides, matters are already decided. Even if you rush over now, it will be of no use.”

Battle cries shook the western sky, and in an instant, the entire city was alarmed. Only the magnificent Sacred Gold Palace remained immersed in a state of decadent joy.