By the time Qin Chang Ge went to find her son—actually, she didn’t need to look for him. The Huang Meng people were guarding outside. Although they were certain the Blazing Flame Gang wouldn’t harm anyone in their own hall, and although Qi Fan didn’t believe Qin Chang Ge would be detrimental to Xiao Rong, still, Xiao Rong’s safety had to be considered.

The Huang Meng’s efficiency was indeed high. When her son ran out and ran back, his pants had already been changed. Originally Xiao Baozi felt embarrassed and refused to come back no matter what, but Qin Chang Ge simply said: “I heard Su Xuan is the world’s number one martial artist.”

“Really?” Baozi hesitated, thought about it, and said with great sacrificial spirit: “It seems I still have to go.”

Qin Chang Ge smiled without speaking.

Baozi’s eyes rolled and he said: “I’m not going for the martial arts… I have to watch him.”

What…

“Uncle Qi Fan said,” Xiao Baozi spoke seriously, “all men who look lecherously at women are transformed from wolves and will eat women, so I have to protect you.”

…What kind of nonsense was this!

Qin Chang Ge decided that from now on, she absolutely must care more about Qi Fan, lest he be so bored all day that he poisoned young children.

Leading her son and preparing to return to the side hall to wait, she met a steward coming toward them. He was very respectful and said Su Xuan requested she move to his study, where he was already waiting. Qin Chang Ge thanked him and calmly went in.

Passing through the garden outside the study, she saw from afar through the wide-open row of long windows that Su Xuan stood with his back to the visitors, hands clasped behind him in snow-white robes, gazing thoughtfully at a painting on the wall. Qin Chang Ge had to admit that when Su Xuan maintained a proper posture, he truly had outstanding bearing. Just this back view alone, with its elegant divine grace and carefree manner, could hold one’s gaze for a long time without being able to look away.

When Qin Chang Ge stepped into the study, Su Xuan had already turned around gracefully, greeting her with bright laughter. In her busy moment, Qin Chang Ge’s gaze quickly swept over that painting.

Vast sky, flying snow, a desolate and empty long street. Within the field of vision, a magnificent black horse with front hooves raised high in the posture of urgently reining in during a gallop. On the horse, a woman in black cloak and yellow shirt was holding the reins with one hand, turning her head slightly toward the roadside in mid-air.

The painting’s artistic intent ended here. What exactly that turning head was looking at could never be known.

The woman appeared to have a graceful figure. On the back of the magnificent horse, she seemed to be looking back. Under the vast sky and fierce wind, on the ground covered with accumulated snow, ten thousand desolate scenes were broken by the silhouette of someone on horseback turning her head. Her black hair flew in the snowflakes. Though her face was blurred and unclear, that distant, seemingly indifferent, seemingly casual turning of the head in the flying snow seemed to have transcended time, looking into the endless joys and sorrows deep within the mortal world—infinitely magnificent.

Looking at this painting, everyone would spontaneously develop an obsession in their hearts.

Who was she? What was she looking at?

Why, in the midst of galloping, on slippery ice, did she suddenly rein in her horse in such a beautiful yet dangerous manner?

The galloping horse’s posture was so vivid, even its explosive muscles were clearly visible. She must have been traveling urgently, swift as lightning. Then what was it that made her suddenly look back in the midst of such an extremely urgent journey?

Just the graceful manner of one backward glance had frozen the most beautiful and most compassionate moment.

…

Qin Chang Ge only took a quick glance, but Su Xuan had already noticed.

He openly asked her: “Is the painting good?”

Caught peeking, Qin Chang Ge wasn’t embarrassed either, and also openly asked: “The leader’s personal work? The artistic conception is truly excellent.”

Su Xuan smiled and said: “It doesn’t capture even one ten-thousandth of that person’s elegance.”

He gazed at the scroll with a strange expression, his eyes flowing like water, with countless ripples in the waves—longing, admiration, melancholy, nostalgia, gratitude, sorrow… all sorts of emotions surged and fluctuated like waves rising from a blue sea, endless and unceasing.

What kind of person could, with just one backward glance, make this implicitly acknowledged number one person under heaven yearn and reminisce so deeply?