Your Majesty, you’re truly merciless.

Qin Chang Ge’s first reaction was to close her eyes.

Don’t cause me to get a stye.

And also… if urine splashes over, wouldn’t I be affected too?

Ugh… when wandering the martial world, how can one avoid getting splashed with urine… Qin Chang Ge painfully turned away, seeing Xiao Jue charge back just as the mud wall fell, swinging his sword horizontally. The sword light was like snow silk, like drifting wind, densely woven like a net, shooting like lightning, blocking Yin Li who was turning his fingers and about to strike.

Xiao Jue’s martial arts style could best be described as domineering. His extremely personal style of rapid swordwork that surged like roaring waves always seized the initiative while giving opponents no chance to retreat. Even when facing the world’s top master, his sword strikes remained bold and unrestrained without hesitation. Though clearly he was slightly inferior, the impression he gave was that his opponent was far from being his match.

Naturally he had just learned who Yin Li was. This was to buy time for the guards to splash their “liquid substances,” so that Qin Chang Ge, who was extremely close to the snake’s kiss, could first escape from those things. Fortunately, Xiao Jue, who took the yang-masculine path, was indeed the best opponent for Yin Li, whose martial arts were sinister and crafty. Conversely, Qin Chang Ge, whose martial arts also followed the yin-feminine path, would easily be constrained under Yin Li’s hands.

So Qin Chang Ge wasn’t worried about Xiao Jue. Seeing the guards’ “liquid substances” being splashed over in tree bark containers, even at a distance those snakes shrieked and fled in panic. This time they weren’t singing Nanmin folk tunes but rather sounded like mourning wails. When Qin Chang Ge saw the snakes turn away, she immediately kicked off the tree and flew far out. Even so, a few spots on her robe’s hem got wet, showing dark yellow ambiguous stains. Qin Chang Ge waved her hand and shouted: “You go first!” while tearing off a section of her collar and covering the slowest-escaping Little Red with it.

Little Red wailed pitifully, actually not daring to escape under that soft cloth but writhing helplessly. Qin Chang Ge’s eyes lit up as she laughed: “A lucky accident—turns out this thing works even better than water.” Without any tender mercy, she smashed down with a club. Little Red met her fragrant demise. Qin Chang Ge flicked her toe, hurling the snake corpse at several others. Those snakes all pounced forward, competing to bite and gnaw. Qin Chang Ge shook her head with clicking sounds while unhesitatingly withdrawing and leaping up, reaching Xiao Jue’s side. He was excitedly fighting, his left and right slashes creating brilliant colored ribbons of light against Yin Li. She grabbed him and said: “Let’s go!”

The two leaped up together. In mid-air, Xiao Jue was still grumbling: “Every time I’m fighting enthusiastically, you drag me away—” Qin Chang Ge paid him no mind, extending her hand to release signal fireworks. Seeing those loyal guards who didn’t dare flee first still standing in a daze, she whipped out her black silk, grabbed them, and left.

Even so, the guard who fell behind was still lazily beckoned by Yin Li in the mud pit. A rainbow flash later, he was dragged into the swamp.

Yin Li didn’t pursue them, only letting out a strange whistle. Qin Chang Ge and Xiao Jue had already run outside the forest, mounting horses and galloping away. While racing, Xiao Jue said: “Actually the two of us could have kept him there…”

“He still has people nearby,” Qin Chang Ge said. “Besides, I don’t have time now. The fireworks I just released had the coded message ‘surround this place.’ If you’re willing, you can stay behind to wait for the main army to arrive and eliminate the Nanmin High Priest once and for all, how about it?”

“No good,” Xiao Jue said. “What’s the point of killing him? Nanmin is a country that doesn’t accept ritual and rule constraints—they’ve always revered the strong. There are plenty of powerful forces coveting high positions. If a priest dies, a new priest will immediately replace him. If you ask me, Yin Li is obsessed with martial practice and doesn’t have much ambition for territorial expansion, which is good for us. If someone else took over, who knows if they’d be restless again.”

“His Majesty grows ever more astute,” Qin Chang Ge praised, then looked up to see a swamp ahead and carefully circled around it. “So we didn’t take the wrong path after all—the swamp really was still behind us. That one earlier was probably something Yin Li created through his martial practice. I’d like to capture him and study what kind of martial arts he practices—oh right, how did you suddenly appear here? Were you the ones camping and cooking outside the forest? Why were you behind me?”

“I missed you,” Xiao Jue answered simply and directly. The fierce night wind from their galloping couldn’t tear apart his clear voice. “As soon as the edict-delivering eunuch left, I couldn’t sit still and left the capital right after. I was very afraid you’d find my letters too verbose and throw them away, or that the eunuch might accidentally lose them, or they’d be burned when making fires—so many things can happen on a long journey, so I came.”

Qin Chang Ge was speechless, carefully covering her sleeves.

“After we entered the forest, when a guard was cooking, he realized he’d dropped something with imperial court markings. This would cause me trouble if it fell into the wrong hands, so he went back to retrieve it. That’s probably when we ended up behind you. Later, a guard whose mother was a Nanmin woman said he smelled the aura of their sacred snakes. I felt uneasy and went quietly through the trees, afraid of making sounds by stepping on fallen leaves. That’s when I saw you.”

Xiao Jue turned his head, looking at Qin Chang Ge with some reproach: “You promised me you would protect yourself, but today if I hadn’t happened to appear, you would probably…”

He suddenly stopped speaking, as if unwilling to voice even ominous speculation, his expression extremely displeased.

Qin Chang Ge held the reins with one hand and reached over to pat his hand with the other, intending to soothe His Majesty’s dejected mood. Unexpectedly, Xiao Jue turned his wrist and grabbed her hand, pulling hard and dragging her onto his horse.

In the fierce wind, Xiao Jue laughed happily, his voice like crystal chiming, clear and bright: “I saved you, so you can repay me by riding together with me.”

“Never seen such a petty emperor,” Qin Chang Ge smiled. Her long-held anxious and oppressive emotions were slightly relieved by his golden voice and cheerful, forthright attitude, like when spring approaches and thin ice melts shallowly underneath, revealing clusters of tender green grass shoots.

“Naturally I’m petty,” Xiao Jue tightened his hold on her waist, bowing his head to her ear: “My heart only has room for a small space. Having placed you there, naturally there’s no room left for anything else.”

Qin Chang Ge smiled and suddenly said softly: “Listen.”

A bright moon rose over the frontier, born from amid cloud waves. The moonlight shone brilliantly over the quiet northern grasslands and distant mountains. Boundless and infinite like a vast scroll painting, on that scroll a galloping steed traced beautiful rhythms across the landscape, its hoofbeats shattering the fragrance of grass and trees and moon-like flowing light.

Under the moonlight, both looked up together. Wind entangled their long hair as they listened in silent, knowing postures to the distant, continuous sound from beyond the emerald fields and mountains, at the end of the mountain ranges.

It was the sound of a long horn—this northern instrument was bold and magnificent. Even when playing cheerful, lively tunes, it remained low and lingering, carrying soul-stirring, profound charm as it sounded.

“The Tilan tribe, ‘Song of the Emerald Fields,’ telling of the beauty of mountains and rivers and the preciousness of time,” Xiao Jue said slowly. “Tilan, sunset fills the frosty mountains, emerald grass dances with scattered stars, wind rolls up lonely smoke, never crossing the secluded gate.”

“Tilan, once the family had children, married far to lofty secluded mountains, drifting with no support—who sees the flowing light return?” Qin Chang Ge gently continued, slightly turning her head toward where the music came from, hearing Xiao Jue behind her whisper softly: “Chang Ge, how many years has it been since you sang this song with me?”

Wrapping the reins around her fingers several times, Qin Chang Ge said leisurely: “Nearly ten years… back then you were just a small squad leader.”

“In the first Youzhou battle I killed nearly a hundred enemies. My reputation spread throughout the army and beyond, but the jealous Deputy General Zheng stole my credit,” Xiao Jue lowered his head, gently blowing on Qin Chang Ge’s hair by her ear as he spoke. The latter, ticklish, dodged slightly. Her skin from ear to shoulder was as bright and compelling as the frontier moon before their eyes. Xiao Jue sighed and gently nuzzled with his forehead.

“You’re making me ticklish…” Qin Chang Ge, who was indeed ticklish, couldn’t help laughing and tilted her shoulder: “You were very angry then, wanting to duel with him. I forcibly dragged you to the grassland to admire the moon. How could you be in the mood to appreciate that blasted moon? Later I told you to listen—it was this very tune then, desolate yet peaceful, that calmed down a hothead like you.”

“Was I really calmed by listening to the song?” Xiao Jue’s voice grew lower, rippling with deep yearning and tender feelings. “Don’t you know? Back then, just like this… you were by my side, that patch of skin under your long hair dazzlingly white. I listened to the song, looked at you, thinking about that woman who married far to the lofty secluded mountains—if it were you, who would you marry… I thought, why not just cook the raw rice into cooked rice? Such good clear wind and moon—what a pity the general summoned me and ruined my plans…”

With an “ah,” Qin Chang Ge turned her head and flicked his forehead with her finger, angrily saying: “So you were a wolf who had no musical sensibility and only thought with your lower half!”

“Mm…” Xiao Jue happily rubbed his forehead and asked: “What’s a sex wolf?”

Qin Chang Ge raised her hand with the whip. In the whistling wind she laughed: “Look, see that wolf howling at the moon on the emerald mountain peak? It’s actually not howling at the moon, but expressing its admiration for the beauty in the moon. A wolf that howls because of lust—that’s why it’s called a sex wolf.”

Halfway through, Xiao Jue was already laughing. He pretended to be angry and pinched Qin Chang Ge’s waist: “The day you’re willing to say one good word about me, I should burn incense and worship Buddha.”

“Where do you lack for good words? The thankless job of saying unpleasant truths falls to me,” Qin Chang Ge said, her expression already becoming serious, speaking lightly: “This journey to Youzhou isn’t safe. You should stay outside the city.”

Originally stirred by that pinch and thinking to take small advantage while Chang Ge’s mood seemed decent, Xiao Jue was startled by these words: “What? I’ve been traveling day and night these past days. The urgent documents couldn’t keep up—what’s happened?”

Qin Chang Ge briefly explained the Youzhou situation. Xiao Jue was stunned, saying after a long while: “No wonder you’ve been driving this horse so hard…”

Qin Chang Ge pretended not to understand the jealousy in his words and directly changed the subject: “The granary being destroyed at the crucial moment has three possibilities: first, the remaining forces of the Cao family, who have entrenched themselves in Youzhou for years, seeking revenge and deliberately opposing the court; second, Northern Wei spies; and third, the granary itself had problems, and someone burned the grain to cover up their crimes.”

Xiao Jue nodded, saying coldly: “They won’t escape punishment in the end!”

“Don’t reveal your identity yet,” Qin Chang Ge raised her whip. “We’re here.”

Dawn was approaching with thin clouds floating. At Youzhou’s city gate, many disaster victims in tattered clothes waited sleeplessly, craning their necks southward with anxious expressions.

Suddenly someone shouted: “They’re coming!”

With a roar, everyone sitting or lying immediately scrambled up, stumbling forward in a rush, stretching their necks to see two riders galloping from the distant horizon—the leader was indeed that young minister.

Opening their arms wide, weeping with joy, someone cried out: “It’s him! It’s him! We’re saved!”

Others, seeing Qin Chang Ge’s empty rear, stared with confused, disappointed expressions. Qin Chang Ge spurred her horse, galloping forward while shouting: “The grain has arrived! The grain escort will be here shortly! None of you will starve to death anymore!”

Thunderous cheers arose. Some had already run into the city to spread the good news. Countless people surrounded the horses as they proceeded, eyes full of gratitude. Qin Chang Ge calculated the time—there was still one hour left before the one-day deadline.

Her mood relaxing, Qin Chang Ge breathed a sigh of relief. Only then did she feel that after galloping non-stop for a day and night, all her bones seemed loose. She couldn’t help grimacing as she pressed her shoulder, exchanging a glance with Xiao Jue before raising her hand to command the gate guards: “Close the city gates.”

Regardless of the opponent’s intentions, they were certainly still in the city observing the situation. Closing the gates first would block their escape route.

Worried about Feihuan’s safety and condition, Qin Chang Ge continuously urged her horse forward. Youzhou city covered a vast area. From the gate to the street where they were surrounded that day required crossing several major streets. As Qin Chang Ge turned one street corner, she suddenly saw several corpses lying on the ground ahead—they were precisely the disaster victims who had excitedly rushed back to report the good news.

Beside her, Xiao Jue had already exclaimed, looking closely: “Just killed—the blood is still warm.”

Her heart jumping, Qin Chang Ge looked up at the distance, faintly hearing shouts rising again. She concentrated and listened carefully, suddenly opening her eyes wide: “This is bad!”

At the same time, Xiao Jue also exclaimed in shock: “How vicious!”

Both desperately spurred their horses, barely turning several street corners when they heard thunderous shouts and countless people crying: “No grain was borrowed! That dog official deceived us! Kill him! Kill him!!”

Shouts like waves: “Kill! Kill!!”

The previous night’s giant waves and wild tide were reenacted. The disaster victims, who had waited anxiously for a day and night, couldn’t withstand such devastating disappointment. They were immediately provoked into wild shrieks and shouts, heads surging as they desperately pushed forward, wanting to tear that “brother of the deceiver” to pieces.

Countless hands raised every available harmful weapon as they charged wildly. Countless heads flooded the narrow alley’s originally empty space that no one dared approach. No one could see what was happening inside.

Unable to see, not knowing—this made it even more terrifying, almost maddening!

Qin Chang Ge’s mind went blank. She dared not think of anything, flipping from horseback in a flash. With a somersault she was already above the crowd, regardless of consequences stepping over countless heads, shouting from mid-air: “Don’t listen to others’ provocations! The grain has arrived!”

Some on the outskirts stopped half-believing, but those in the inner circle had already been stirred to frenzy. In their own loud shouting they didn’t listen to what Qin Chang Ge was yelling, just red-eyed, desperately lunging forward.

Another thunderous shout rang out. A black shadow leaped into the air, grabbing one person in each hand and hurling them toward the very front of the crowd!

With several bangs, those two people knocked down several others, all falling in a heap and rolling together. This immediately blocked the road, cutting the dragon-like crowd into a small half and a large half. The disaster victims’ steps paused. Before they could help up the fallen, they felt a black cloud flash overhead as two figures whooshed past one after another.

Both were using their full strength, their forms chasing light and pursuing sun, fast as meteors, afraid that being even slightly late would cast eternal regret, never to be redeemed.

Qin Chang Ge started first, stepping into the narrow alley with one foot. At a glance she saw Wen Zhengting bloodied, leading a team of bailiffs in a circle, desperately resisting the disaster victims pouring in. Everyone was bruised and bloodied, their clothes torn to barely cover their bodies, yet they desperately refused to retreat one step. Looking at each of them, exhausted to near-death and swaying, heaven knows how many waves of fierce attacks they had just withstood.

Qin Chang Ge rushed over like wind, whipping out her black silk and directly flinging away the two disaster victims at the front. Wen Zhengting, nearly exhausted from resistance, was still reflexively waving his hands even after people were swept away, staring straight ahead and shouting: “Come on! Come on! Fight me with your life if you dare—”

Qin Chang Ge grabbed him and slapped him. Only then did Wen Zhengting wake up, shaking his head and seeing Qin Chang Ge clearly. This pedantic scholar was overjoyed, almost crying as he croaked: “Go look—go look—”

He couldn’t catch his breath and fainted with rolled-back eyes. The anxious waiting and bustling of a day and night, the enormous psychological pressure had long been unbearable. Today’s near-collapse confrontation had consumed his last bit of spirit. The moment he saw Qin Chang Ge, his gritted determination instantly collapsed.

Even so, before falling, his finger still didn’t forget to point straight toward behind a stone pier.

Qin Chang Ge caught him, placing him in a corner, and walked toward the stone pier.

Biting her lip, her heart beating violently, Qin Chang Ge suddenly felt her legs so weak and her steps so difficult.

Turning around the stone pier, she saw at a glance a man lying quietly on his side as if asleep. Qin Chang Ge suddenly felt she had lost her breath.

Behind the stone pier, on the sandy ground, Feihuan lay slanted in a lifeless posture, black hair scattered all over, black and long eyelashes motionless. His face was so pale you could see light blue veins. His forehead was bloody, and the ground where he lay also bore dark bloodstains.

Wind sounds receded, clamor receded. Those hunting banners, connected camps, blood and slaughter, those overturning storms, past and present lives, grudges and hatreds all receded. But a peach blossom from years ago suddenly bloomed vividly before her eyes, its posture startlingly bright and swaying, its color deep red like that shocking fresh blood.

Qin Chang Ge crouched down, her finger trembling slightly as it slowly approached Feihuan’s nose.

Her finger touched and immediately withdrew. Then she swayed.

Like a string pulled too tight that trembles uncontrollably when suddenly released.

He was still alive!

Immense joy rushed toward her like wind. Qin Chang Ge seemed to hear the clear ringing of a four-stringed qin from distant Mount Qingma, each note cold and clear as jade. It was legendary instrument representing life and emotion whose music could instantly revive the dying.

With a smile containing tearful light, Qin Chang Ge carefully wiped away the bloodstains from Chu Feihuan’s forehead, seeing some broken stones beside him. Probably disaster victims had initially thrown stones that hit him. Fortunately Wen Zhengting was alert, finding this stone pier from somewhere and strictly protecting him behind it. He and the bailiffs and soldiers surrounded him in a circle, managing to preserve Chu Feihuan’s life under such fierce assault.

Without this, given Feihuan’s seriously ill condition and his unwillingness to harm disaster victims in self-defense, how could he have waited for Qin Chang Ge’s return?

Crouching down, Qin Chang Ge wanted to carry Chu Feihuan on her back, but a pair of hands reached over, taking Chu Feihuan from her—it was Xiao Jue.

His guards had just arrived, blocking the alley entrance. Bright sword edges all pointed outward in unison. Anyone advancing further would be throwing flesh and blood against blades. This forced the disaster victims to stop. Fortunately today’s rioters weren’t as numerous as that night—many disaster victims had been deliberately diverted by Qin Chang Ge to rest at various government offices, and some who had received rations were grateful and unwilling to act. This allowed the guards to squeeze in and enabled Wen Zhengting to lead a team of low-skilled soldiers to protect Chu Feihuan.

At this moment Wen Zhengting had slowly awakened. Seeing Xiao Jue, he was startled, rubbing his eyes in amazement: “Your Maj—”

“Shut up!” Xiao Jue’s answer was concise and forceful, his tone displeased. Qin Chang Ge glanced at him and winked at Wen Zhengting: “Magistrate Wen, this isn’t the time for ceremonies. Who was inciting the riots?”

Standing up, Wen Zhengting said hatefully: “Ever since you left, people have been stirring up trouble, secretly fanning flames, always wanting to create chaos to destroy us. We’ve resisted wave after wave. Young Master Chu was injured early by flying stones. He woke once, and I said I’d fight to find a way to send him back to the magistrate’s residence, but he insisted on refusing, saying he promised to wait for your return. If you came back here and didn’t see him, you’d be frightened… So I had people move the stone pier to shield him.”

Qin Chang Ge listened in silence. Beside her, Xiao Jue had a strange expression, wanting to say something but not speaking. After Qin Chang Ge was lost in thought for a while, she said: “The troublemakers are still nearby. The gates are closed—they can’t escape for now. Do you still remember that person’s voice?”

Thinking carefully, Wen Zhengting honestly answered: “Difficult—too many people were talking then.”

A nearby soldier said breathlessly: “I vaguely saw a thin man with a mole on his cheekbone, always hiding behind people to incite them.”

By this time the disaster victims had gradually quieted down, because the first batch of grain transport teams, urged by Qin Chang Ge’s signal fireworks, had already arrived. Carts loaded with bags of grain were continuously pouring through the city gates. This proved the facts better than any proclamation. The disaster victims quickly calmed down and cheered joyfully.

Wen Zhengting said angrily: “These bastards have stomachs but no brains! They nearly killed me just now—why feed them anything!” He spoke fiercely but immediately casually bandaged his head and went to arrange porridge stations for relief work. Qin Chang Ge watched his figure recede, sighing softly: “At least I didn’t entrust the wrong person…” Her words carried immense relief and emotion.

Xiao Jue nodded: “This person has integrity.” He stared at the expression on Qin Chang Ge’s face, then looked at Chu Feihuan’s haggard condition, inevitably showing a trace of bitter smile. Yet he still extended his hand to Chu Feihuan’s back, saying softly: “Being unconscious too long isn’t good. I’ll wake him first. Seeing you’ve returned safely should make him feel better.”