Li Mu didn’t keep her waiting long.

His arrival came much sooner than she had imagined.

This was their first meeting since he had sent her away from Xuan City two years ago.

He looked somewhat different from how she remembered him.

Back then, perhaps due to busy preparations for war north of the Yangtze and his hurried return to rescue the sovereign, he had no time for other trivial matters. In Gao Luoshen’s memory, Li Mu wore blood-stained armor with an unkempt beard about an inch long that obscured half his face.

A faint scent of blood and a pair of deep, somber eyes beneath his brows—these were the most vivid impressions left by that Governor of Yanzhou who came to rescue the city.

But tonight, the man before her was completely different from her memories.

He wore black robes with a grand cap, his waist bound with a jade-inlaid belt. That face-obscuring beard was gone, his face clean-shaven, with only the faint shadow of stubble typical of adult men after shaving along both jawlines, revealing a refined and lean jawline. His eyes were bright and piercing, making him appear both spirited and handsome.

He was completely different in temperament from Lu Jianzhi or the fathers and brothers Gao Luoshen was accustomed to.

When Jianzhi was alive, he was not only outstanding among the young noble sons of Jiankang’s generation, but also a rare one who joined the military to build achievements.

His hands could wield both elegant writing brushes and deadly swords.

Yet even having joined the military with distinguished service, Jianzhi lacked Li Mu’s killing aura.

This had nothing to do with clothing—it was an unsettling sense of latent oppression that could only come from experiencing mountains of corpses and seas of blood, from treading on blade edges and drinking blood, something that had seeped into his very bones.

After entering, he stood before her, watching her, neither speaking nor approaching.

Gao Luoshen knew that tonight, with her vermillion lips and white teeth, she was extremely beautiful.

Since Jianzhi’s death seven years ago, tonight was the first time she had adorned herself so splendidly for someone.

The surroundings were frighteningly quiet. Gao Luoshen could even hear the sound of his breathing, one breath after another.

For the first time in her life, she felt extremely nervous.

She finally gathered courage, raised her head, and met his gaze.

After looking at each other for a moment, she slowly curved her lips toward him, revealing a smile.

He seemed to hesitate slightly, his shoulders moving just a bit, then removed his head cap and stepped to her side.

In this season, if dressed too lightly, Gao Luoshen would occasionally feel cold when night winds arose.

Perhaps due to drinking wine, he seemed somewhat hot, with thin perspiration already faintly showing through his clothes.

“Would you like to change clothes?”

After hesitating, Gao Luoshen asked softly.

He raised his hand, about to untie the belt that bound his waist, when his arm suddenly paused, stopping mid-air.

A slender, pale hand had already reached toward his waist, fingertips touching the belt buckle, then stopping.

He looked toward her.

She had already stood up from beside the bed, her height reaching his shoulders. Standing before him like this, she appeared even more delicate in comparison.

Her feathery lashes trembled slightly. She lowered her eyes, not looking at him.

After only brief hesitation, that jade-like hand unfastened his buckle and gently removed it from him.

He remained still, only slightly lowering his head, silently watching her continue to undress him, then obediently turned around and raised both arms to facilitate her efforts.

Outer garments. Middle garments. When the inner shirt that had been soaked with sweat on the back was also half-removed, he felt the hand that had been resting on his rear shoulder through the clothing stop.

He waited for a moment, then finally felt that hand withdraw from his shoulder and back.

He slowly turned his head and saw her expression slightly stiff, her eyes fixed steadily on his back, as if seeing the most hideous thing in the world.

“Do I disgust and frighten you?”

His voice sounded hoarse and stiff.

Across his back were several old scars from past battles, all quite deep.

Especially the knife scar on his left shoulder that extended to his lower back—the wound had been so severe it nearly cost him his life. Though now healed, the scarred area remained uneven, like a purple centipede crawling across his skin, looking extremely fierce.

Gao Luoshen raised her eyes, meeting his dark, somber gaze. After a moment, she gently shook her head.

“I was wondering if it still hurts now?”

She asked him softly.

Those beautiful eyes showed no disgust or fear, but rather natural tenderness and pity emerging after initial surprise.

The darkness in his eyes instantly cleared.

“It hasn’t hurt for a long time.”

He gazed at her, speaking equally softly, his tone extremely gentle, as if comforting her.

Gao Luoshen slowly exhaled, turned to fetch a clean inner shirt, and seeing he had already removed his sweat-soaked garment, revealing his strong upper body, her face couldn’t help but warm slightly. Not daring to look much, she lowered her eyes and handed the garment over.

He dressed himself and properly tied the sash.

Through this exchange, the initial strangeness between them seemed to gradually disappear. Not only Gao Luoshen, but even Li Mu appeared much more natural.

“Grand Marshal…” She paused and changed her address.

“…Langjun once rescued me from danger, yet I never had the opportunity to express my thanks. Speaking thanks now, I hope it’s not too late.”

“As long as you’re safe, there’s no need for thanks.” He smiled slightly.

Perhaps illuminated by the warm red candlelight nearby, his gaze toward her now looked so gentle.

The man before her was completely different from the rumors of that ruthless Grand Marshal who eliminated dissidents, everything for the purpose of plotting usurpation.

For that brief instant, she suddenly felt confused in her heart and fell silent.

He seemed to sense her emotions and stopped speaking as well, only continuing to watch her.

The brief ease between them from moments before vanished, and the atmosphere became tense again.

“You must be tired. Rest early.”

After hesitating, he finally spoke again, breaking the silence.

“I know you didn’t marry me willingly. You needn’t worry. As long as you’re unwilling, I won’t force you.”

He added, his tone calm.

In Gao Luoshen’s heart, a sense of shame arose, as if someone had seen through her private thoughts.

Knowing he was watching her, she turned her head away, avoiding his gaze, and with her back to him, slowly removed her outer garments.

The brocade curtains fell, and the two lay side by side on pillows.

She closed her eyes, her cheeks flushed red.

He carefully moved closer, tentatively beginning to untie her middle garment.

That hand which had held a general’s sword and killed countless enemies now trembled slightly, unable to untie the silk sash several times.

On the final attempt, just as he successfully untied the sash, that hand was suddenly gently pressed down by hers.

“Langjun, will you usurp the throne like the Xu family in the future?”

She slowly opened her eyes, turned her head, and gazed at the man beside her pillow whose passion was stirring.

Li Mu looked at her for a moment, withdrew his hand, and sat up.

Gao Luoshen didn’t know why she had so rashly asked such a question at this moment.

As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them.

She lay on the pillow, looking at the sitting silhouette of the man beside her, grave as a mountain, her heart beating rapidly.

For a long time, she heard no response from him.

She closed her eyes: “I spoke wrongly. Langjun needn’t take it to heart.”

“Do you know why I originally joined the military?”

He suddenly asked in return.

Gao Luoshen opened her eyes and saw he had turned his head, looking down at her.

She widened her eyes, motionless.

His gaze swept over her flower-like face, and he smiled.

“When I was ten, our family fortress was broken by northern barbarians. My father died in battle. Fortunately, with the desperate protection of a loyal family guard, my mother was able to bring me out alive. I still remember the scene when my mother brought me across the river. On the north bank, pursuing barbarian soldiers shot random arrows. People were constantly struck and fell into the water. The fishing boats were narrow and crowded with people, cries shaking the heavens. A nearby boat capsized in mid-river because too many people had boarded it. Neighbors who had fled with us struggled and cried out in the river, quickly swept away by waves and disappeared.”

“While still in the north, they constantly hoped that Dayu’s emperor would send troops, hoped to drive away the barbarians so they could worship their own emperor, wear their own clothes, and farm their own land. After hoping for so many years, Dayu’s armies did come, but only made a turn before leaving again—nothing could be seen! Now even the last place where they could shelter was gone!”

“They just wanted to survive. Having not died in war, escaped the northern barbarians’ pursuit, and not been shot by the random arrows behind them. Now they only needed to cross this river to reach Han people’s own territory. Those places were visible ahead, but when a wave struck, they still couldn’t survive in the end…”

He paused.

“From that moment, I told myself that if I could ever rise to prominence, I would raise armies for northern expeditions, restore the two capitals, make the barbarians return to their own territories, and let the Han people reclaim their ancestors’ land.”

“Over twenty years have passed, and my original intention has never changed.”

His tone was calm, as if describing something unrelated to himself.

“Since Dayu’s southern retreat, heroes have emerged in great numbers. Even among noble families, there’s no lack of outstanding ones who could lead armies to restore Han territory. Your honored father was one of them. But do you know why Minggong’s several northern expeditions all ended in failure?”

Gao Luoshen slowly sat up.

“It’s not that our southern soldiers aren’t brave or generals lack strategy, but that noble families each harbor their own schemes, prioritizing factional struggles, unwilling to let your Gao family alone grow powerful through northern expedition achievements, thus constraining efforts from behind.”

“Even the Xiao imperial house probably doesn’t want Minggong’s northern expeditions to succeed. The Xiao house has long been content in Jiangzuo since the southern retreat. Having no heart for the old capital, how could they want to see subjects achieve such merit that it overshadows the imperial house?”

He glanced at her, slightly frowning, pondering for a moment.

“With your noble status, marrying down to me today surely serves your purposes. Since you’ve asked me directly, I might as well tell you. I don’t know what the future holds. So far, I harbor no disloyal intentions.”

“But,” he paused, emphasizing his tone.

“Anyone who obstructs my northern expeditions, no matter who they are, is Li Mu’s enemy, and I will eliminate them!”

Gao Luoshen had been silently listening to his account. She remained quiet for a long time.

“Langjun, I never paid much attention to court affairs before. I only know that when my father was alive, his greatest lifelong aspiration was to pacify the Central Plains through northern campaigns. If he were still alive, he would surely support you.”

Li Mu gazed at her, pleasure gradually appearing in his eyes.

“Madam…”

“Call me A’Mi. That’s what family calls me.”

She smiled sweetly.

“A’Mi…”

Li Mu’s gaze moved slightly as he softly sighed her name.

He took her hand, slowly tightening his grip, finally enveloping her small hand tightly within his own callused, burning palm.