Water slowly spread, leaving the floor wet and glistening.

The battle robes had long been cast aside.

Candlelight flickered, bathing that pile of cold, hard iron armor in a warm, glistening glow. A crumpled smoke-purple silk gown lay pressed beneath, with one corner of its cloud-patterned hem caught on a piece of armor – skirt and iron mail tangled together in disarray.

After a long while, the sounds of male gasping mixed with feminine cries gradually subsided.

Li Mu dried her body and carried her back to the bed. When he went to retrieve his clothes, Luoshen asked him to sit while she crawled up herself, fetching a set of clean undergarments she had prepared for him earlier, returning to kneel beside him and dress him.

During the day, in the eyes of the world, he as Grand Marshal was one of the most powerful men in the realm.

He was moreover the glory of Nanchao, unique and unparalleled. His reputation was as lofty as his power, equally brilliant, looked up to by all.

But at this moment, when he had removed that layer of armor and revealed his unknown side, only she knew that behind the brilliance of fame and position, what remained on his body were countless scars.

Those wounds large and small, imprinted on his body since youth, were like segments of testimony, witnessing exactly how he had fought his way out from mountains of corpses and seas of blood to finally reach this point today.

She hadn’t noticed before, but only now, while dressing him, did she discover a new wound on his back.

Her gaze instantly froze.

A long gash, extending almost from shoulder to lower back, lay like a hideous centipede quietly crouched on his back.

What a shocking, unforgettable scar it was. Anyone who saw it would never forget.

The moment it came into view, for a brief instant, she had a strange sense of déjà vu, as if she had seen it somewhere before.

But before she could think further, her attention was completely captured by what she saw.

She stopped helping him dress, kneeling beside him with her gaze fixed on this hideous scar on his back that still bore traces of stitching, no longer foolishly asking if it hurt as she had before.

How could it not hurt?

Stripped of that hard armor, he was merely a mortal of flesh and blood.

Li Mu seemed to sense something. Turning his head and seeing her gaze fixed on his back, he understood.

Her look of familiarity suddenly brought to his mind that blood-soaked memory of their wedding night.

He showed no trace of the uncomfortable feeling now surging in his heart, only smiling as he explained: “It stopped hurting long ago. This happened not long after we parted, when fighting the Xianbei in Longxi. It was my own carelessness – I thought I had killed that man, but he wasn’t quite dead. He crawled up from the pile of corpses and struck me from behind. I was wearing armor at the time, so the wound wasn’t deep, just long, looking rather frightening. It healed quickly, don’t be afraid…”

His voice gradually lowered and finally disappeared as he watched her soft hand slowly reach toward him, fingertips touching the scar on his back. Then her whole person leaned against him, lowering her face to gently press her lips to him, kissing him along that ugly scar from his shoulder downward in worship-like devotion.

Her kisses were full of tender affection, as if afraid that any pressure might hurt him.

Li Mu looked down at her, his gaze fixed.

In this lifetime, he still could not resist the desire to have her, marrying her early and staying far from court, wanting to fulfill his former unfinished aspirations in another way.

It seemed that initially, everything had indeed been completely different from before.

However, all of this gave Li Mu an increasingly familiar feeling.

He felt himself still repeating the same old path he had walked before.

Only now he had changed methods – different routes to the same destination.

Yang Xuan had finally died after all.

And he had finally become Grand Marshal again.

Even this scar on his back had come so unexpectedly – by the time he realized it, it was already on his body, never to be erased for this lifetime, accompanying him until death.

He feared no enemy in this world.

However powerful the enemy, he could defeat them.

But fate – that sense of powerlessness where he clearly knew everything and tried to avoid it, yet fate seemed to be the destination waiting ahead, impossible to escape, only to be pushed helplessly toward it – was the most terrifying enemy that could gnaw at one’s heart.

Undeniably, Yang Xuan’s death had left him extremely depressed these days. He couldn’t let go.

He grieved for losing this old friend, and fell into confused doubt that fate might truly be irreversible – that even though he had gained her, he might ultimately still lose her.

Not just Yang Xuan. When people in this world are completely swept into fate’s torrent, who can be certain they will escape unscathed?

These days, on the return journey, he had longed so desperately to see her face.

Perhaps only when with her, holding her tightly in his arms, completely possessing her, feeling her warmth and reality that belonged to him, could his unanchored heart settle once more.

She was still carefully kissing that wound on his back – that scar he detested, which seemed to clearly prove his past life and connect to this one.

The more she cherished it, the more depressed and low his mood became.

Yet his body was so honest, loving her tender care and cherishing of him.

Every inch of wounded flesh touched by her lips and fingertips suddenly raised goosebumps.

Li Mu surrendered.

An indescribable sensation of intense satisfaction, as if emerging from his body’s deepest depths, seized him completely.

His eyes flashed with strange light, his breathing became rapid again, blood heating rapidly beneath his skin like a furnace, scorching every inch of his flesh and meridians.

He had just taken her once.

But this was far from enough – it would never be enough.

His mind suddenly went blank, thinking of nothing.

He only wanted to be with her, never to part again.

“Langjun, what’s wrong with you…”

Luoshen finally noticed his strangeness, stopped what she was doing, raised her face to gently ask him. Her bright eyes gazed at him with a trace of doubt and worry. She still knelt beside him, the loose robe draped over her shoulders unable to conceal the jade-white skin beneath.

Li Mu turned around and almost pounced on her.

…

Everything finally subsided once more.

Luoshen was covered in perspiration, pressed beneath his heavy body, making it difficult to breathe freely.

But her limbs felt as if gently washed by hot spring water – she was submerged within it, floating upon it, drifting peacefully in supreme comfort.

After a long while, she moved slightly, opened her eyes, stretched her jade arms, but didn’t push away the man still pressing down on her. Instead she gently embraced his neck, pressed her lips to his ear, and said softly: “Langjun, what troubles your heart?”

Li Mu slowly raised his face from her cloud-thick hair, gazed into her eyes for a moment, pecked her moist red lips, rolled off her body, and closed his eyes: “A’Mi, I wish to resign from the position of Grand Marshal. Would you be willing?”

Luoshen felt somewhat surprised.

The position of Grand Marshal had been vacant in the court for decades. Now he had earned it through merit – he deserved it completely.

As far as she knew, tomorrow at court the formal golden seal and purple ribbon would be bestowed upon him. Thus he would truly become the first minister since Dayu’s southern migration to receive such high position.

In terms of official rank, Grand Marshal was even higher than her father’s position of Head of State Affairs.

She hadn’t expected that with the investiture imminent, he would have such thoughts.

She crawled over, lay on his chest with her arms supporting her chin, and asked: “Langjun, why don’t you want to be Grand Marshal?”

Li Mu didn’t answer immediately.

Luoshen gazed into his eyes and suddenly seemed to understand.

He had told her personally that he disliked this capital city.

His attitude toward this court was clearly different from all other court officials, including her father.

From beginning to end, he seemed never to have developed any sense of belonging to this court, though this didn’t prevent him from being willing to travel thousands of li from Chang’an with troops to rescue the court from crisis when it was in danger.

The position of Grand Marshal was supreme in others’ eyes, even sought after unsuccessfully. But Luoshen knew her husband was different from others.

This had been clear to Luoshen from when he initially refused her father’s patronage and took a mere two thousand soldiers to Yi Cheng to open wasteland.

“I understand!”

She immediately nodded.

“If you don’t want it, we won’t take this Grand Marshal position. It’s just a Grand Marshal position – what’s so special about it?”

She added this last sentence with emphasis.

Li Mu gazed at her, a faint smile gradually emerging in his eyes.

He stroked her head and said: “I truly don’t wish to have too many entanglements with the court. Being an outer minister is enough for me.”

Luoshen nodded: “I’ll follow you in everything.” She thought a moment. “But tomorrow the court will formally invest you. Why don’t we go find A’Ye and tell him your thoughts? As long as A’Ye agrees, it will be fine.”

Li Mu smiled and nodded.

Since Luoshen knew Li Mu’s thoughts, she was even more eager than he was.

Li Mu had returned early tonight, and it wasn’t very late yet. She thought that her father had been sleeping late these past nights, and wouldn’t listen when she advised otherwise. She got up and sent someone to see if her father had retired yet.

Moments later, she was indeed told that the master’s study light was still on.

Luoshen and Li Mu dressed and arranged their appearance, then left the room together to go to Gao Qiao’s study.