Qin Chang Ge carefully wrung out the silk cloth in the golden basin, her movements gentle, though inwardly she was cursing viciously.
With so many palace maids around, why did that clearly unconscious man suddenly reach out and grab her skirt hem just as she was passing by his side?
The Princess immediately and naturally ordered her to stay and attend to him. In private, she showed Qin Chang Ge a face full of earnest concern, her expression actually containing some pleading.
Qin Chang Ge sighed silently, also helpless.
Wen Chang was truly overthinking things. Regardless, she was now just a lowly palace maid—could she really disobey orders?
Qin Chang Ge smiled slightly. Taking advantage of the empty room, she unceremoniously opened Xiao Jue’s robe, her fingers gently pressing against his wheat-colored skin that was stronger and more lustrous than ordinary people’s due to his unceasing martial arts practice.
With just one touch, she understood everything.
Xiao Jue still had that stubborn, willful temperament—Shangguan’s sword was not to be trifled with. Though the blue-robed man had fought desperately to protect him, the incomparably powerful sword energy had still passed through the blue-robed man’s shoulder and back, penetrating into Xiao Jue’s chest, splitting the skin three inches deep. The physical pain was secondary; that bone-chilling sword energy had somewhat injured Xiao Jue’s lung meridians. Combined with his disturbed state of mind, it had caused him to faint—though it wasn’t actually that serious.
But… Shangguan’s sword seemed to have shown mercy?
That old monster hadn’t actually come to kill Xiao Jue?
Thinking of what Shangguan had said before leaving, Qin Chang Ge smiled and flicked her finger against his chest, squinting as she looked at her familiar previous life husband’s torso, her palm gently pressing against his calmly powerful beating heart.
The skin beneath her palm was warm, delicate, and very elastic. The heart beneath her palm beat powerfully, each sound entering her ears.
Vaguely, she remembered those days when Xiao Jue was frequently injured on the battlefield. He was someone who feared no hardship and bravely pressed forward—regardless of blood flowing all over his body, regardless of mountains of blades and forests of swords, regardless of hundreds of thousands of corpses, regardless of seas of fire and rivers of ice. As long as he had a breath left and could still fight, he would definitely charge forward with sword in hand and horse beneath him, killing to his heart’s content first.
She, however, had a lazy disposition. If she could avoid taking action, she wouldn’t. She simply stayed by his side constantly. As he was injured often, over time she had actually developed skilled bandaging techniques, becoming his dedicated field medic.
Qin Chang Ge’s fingers slowly moved, exploring inside his clothing.
Delicately yet accurately, she found a raised scar three fen below his neck.
Not long, but very deep. After healing, the muscle and sinews could no longer stretch properly, clustering together to form a hideous scar.
A hideous scar, carved in whose heart…
That winter year, the Chihe battlefield, the life-and-death battle with Wei Yuanxian, the founding ruler of Northern Wei.
The Xiliang historical records stated in black and white: “Initially, Wei Yuanxian’s army was the mightiest under heaven… That winter, the decisive battle was fought at Chihe Pass in Dingyang. The Wei army was powerful, surrounding with four hundred thousand troops. Wei King Yuanxian was arrogant in his advantage, setting up over a hundred camps, fiercely attacking Dingyang, saying: ‘An army of a million, wherever it passes is like rolling up a mat, advancing through blood, must slaughter this city—singing before and dancing after, is this not delightful!’ Before the Wei army arrived, the Emperor sent Prince Jing’an secretly to Yanling to mobilize the Pingyan army for rescue. Duke Wuwei led elite troops to take the Wei army’s Yucheng. Yucheng was the essential route for the Wei army’s southern advance—capturing it would strangle the Wei army’s throat. The Empress later defended Dingyang alone, using the strong city to resist forcefully. For over a month, the Wei King could not take Dingyang, his spirit crushed and morale low. When Prince Jing’an’s reinforcements arrived, the Emperor personally led three thousand cavalry in a night raid on the Wei camp, achieving initial victory. At that time Yucheng had fallen, but the news had not yet arrived. The Empress ordered false victory reports to be shot into Yangcheng, and commanded death warriors to pretend to break into the Wei camp, deliberately leaving battle reports. When the Wei army obtained them, they were startled three times in one day, holding their troops in readiness. The Emperor led three thousand brave warriors on a blood moon night, secretly crossing the Ding River for the decisive battle in the Azure Dragon Field of Chihe, slaying Wei army general Cheng Yu and wounding Wei King Yuanxian. In this battle blood flowed enough to float pestles, corpses covered the fields everywhere. The Wei army fled north in panic, meeting Duke Wuwei again at Yucheng… Only two or three tenths of their forces remained. From this battle, the momentum of both armies was reversed. The Wei King thereafter hesitated all day and dared not advance… The ten-thousand-year foundation of our Xiliang began from this.”
Those dry, rigid words in the historical records were good at diluting all the bloody storms and rain, coldly freezing them in eternal time. Only those who had participated in the campaign could never forget those days of dining on wind and drinking snow, struggling through hardships and difficulties, vowing to defend the city to the death, bathing in blood and slaughter.
In the bitter cold winter month, the long-besieged endangered city, when news of Yucheng’s capture had not yet arrived, Qin Chang Ge’s forged battle report had already been shot to the city walls.
The whistling arrows like fireworks, carrying news as exhilarating as fireworks, shot into the eyes of the hungry, exhausted, weakened soldiers in the city. In those embraces flying with hot tears, in that boundless cheering and jubilation, Xiao Jue stepped onto the battlements with one stride. Under the joyful upward gazes of the multitude, he gave orders with flying spirits to exhaust all edible food, letting the soldiers going to battle today eat their fill.
The soldiers who hadn’t had a full meal in months laughingly received that rice mixed with millet, chaff, glutinous rice, and even unknown dried insect fragments. They sat on the ground, pillowing their heads on tattered hemp sacks, their hands covered with chilblains and countless bloody cracks holding bowls, swallowing in great mouthfuls.
Laughing, they said they could finally be well-fed ghosts.
Qin Chang Ge and Xiao Jue ate the same food.
Xiao Jue leaned against the city wall, holding his rice bowl, eating with great relish. Qin Chang Ge watched him for a long time, then pushed half her bowl of rice into his bowl. Xiao Jue made a sound of protest, glared at her, and pushed it back.
Qin Chang Ge pushed it over again.
Xiao Jue pushed it back again.
In their struggle, a few grains of rice scattered. Xiao Jue hurriedly picked them up and put them in his mouth, laughing, “This rice was spilled by you, so I’m eating your food. Stop pushing it back—if you keep pushing, I’ll get angry.”
Qin Chang Ge silently watched him. Tonight, Xiao Jue insisted on leading troops to raid the enemy camp, because he knew the city could no longer hold out. The Wei army was still confused after receiving the battle report of Yucheng’s fall during the day, while Yu Zixi’s reinforcements were rushing to arrive. Now was the perfect opportunity to attack the camp from within and without.
But that was three hundred thousand troops.
Three thousand against three hundred thousand.
Only Xiao Jue dared to do it.
During that period, Qin Chang Ge had been running a low fever due to exhaustion and malnutrition. The unexplained fever worried Xiao Jue, so he issued military orders strictly forbidding Qin Chang Ge from following into battle.
That night, three thousand brave warriors quietly sharpened their blades and fed their skeletal war horses by the water channels.
That night, the deep, distant horn calls they had grown accustomed to slowly murmured in the night, particularly somber. The white bones scattered across thousands of li of pastoral fields, the patches of fresh blood, together with that lonely, cold moon watching the world’s struggles and slaughter, all transformed into countless pairs of eyes of wandering souls who had died in battle on the wasteland and could never return to their homeland, drifting restlessly in the deep, silent night.
That night the moonlight was pale and tragic, crimson red as if about to drip. On the blood moon night, with ashen skies, Xiao Jue led three thousand brave warriors with bits in their horses’ mouths and cloth wrapped around their hooves, advancing stealthily all the way.
The quiet, swift formation moving like a long snake through the grass was hard to detect the slender figure following far behind.
When night was deepest.
Xiao Jue forded the Ding River, approaching the enemy camp. Removing bits and casting off cloth wrappings, raising hooves, he charged straight into the enemy’s heartland!