He seemed somewhat hesitant, his tone lacking firmness, but he had spoken nonetheless. Qin Chang Ge turned around to see him raising his wine cup with a bright smile, saying, “Today is a special day… Su wishes to pay respects to a benefactor I mentioned to you before… Su would like to invite the young lady to accompany me, though I wonder if this might be presumptuous?”

Qin Chang Ge was slightly stunned. She had thought he was about to confide some inner secret, but instead he spoke of this matter. She smiled and said, “It would be my honor.”

In her heart, however, she quickly contemplated today’s date, confirming it was neither Ruiyi’s birthday from her previous life nor the anniversary of her death. She couldn’t help feeling somewhat disappointed—earlier, when she had seen that painting in Su Xuan’s study, she had harbored some vague suspicions. Later, she recalled that the horse looked familiar, appearing very much like her beloved mount Tafeng from her previous life. Though the woman on the horse’s face wasn’t visible, she vaguely resembled her former self. However, the horse lacked the distinctive tuft of white hair on Tafeng’s forehead, which had been an extremely conspicuous marking. This left Qin Chang Ge puzzled. She had considered whether it might be due to the artist’s viewing angle at the time, unable to see Tafeng’s forehead marking and thus not painting it, leaving her unable to confirm her suspicions. Otherwise, upon seeing it, how could she not have recognized it?

Qin Chang Ge had long suspected that the “benefactor” he spoke of was herself, though she couldn’t recall when she might have shown him kindness—not remembering was normal, considering that during those years of following Xiao Jue through campaigns north and south, in times of war and chaos, she had encountered too many displaced, homeless, and pitiful people. Though she generally didn’t like meddling in others’ affairs, she would occasionally feel compassionate, but she never lingered long—who could remember everyone they had helped?

Yet today’s date didn’t seem quite right.

Could it really not be her?

Su Xuan had already ordered horses to be brought over, saying apologetically, “The journey is long, I must trouble the young lady… I wonder about your riding skills?”

Qin Chang Ge, whose martial arts were not yet proficient, would not boast. She smiled sweetly, “Not particularly good.”

Su Xuan didn’t mind, laughing, “We people of the martial world don’t concern ourselves with such formalities, but the young lady is not from our martial arts circles… Would you be willing to trouble yourself and share a mount with me?”

Qin Chang Ge’s eyes sparkled with mirth as she said teasingly, “I’m someone who already has a son—sharing a horse with Leader Su should count as me taking advantage.”

With a “puchi” sound, the Blazing Flame subordinate leading the horse couldn’t help but chuckle, giving Qin Chang Ge a few extra glances. This woman appeared delicate and refined, yet spoke with startling boldness.

Su Xuan was momentarily stunned, then burst into hearty laughter, leaping onto the horse. “Miss Ming is truly extraordinary—it was I who was being overly formal…” He extended his palm toward Qin Chang Ge, his slender palm translucent as jade.

Qin Chang Ge grasped his hand without any coyness, applying slight force and executing a graceful spin to mount the horse.

Su Xuan’s eyes brightened with approval. “Miss Ming moves with such lightness—you would surely be excellent material for learning qinggong.”

His posture on horseback was upright and straight as a sword. As he controlled the reins and urged the horse forward with elegant bearing, despite sharing the mount, he managed never to bump against Qin Chang Ge’s body even during rapid galloping through skillful riding. While this demonstrated his exceptional Northern riding skills, it also revealed glimpses of his gentlemanly character.

Sitting in front of him, Qin Chang Ge smiled slightly, wondering about the truth behind that rumor of him “sleeping with the most beautiful woman in the world.”

Among the men around her, Xiao Jue’s violence concealed hints of melancholy and confusion, Yu Zixi’s indulgence hid deep scheming, and Su Xuan’s carefree nature masked layers of secrets—not one of them was simply reliable.

Thinking this, she couldn’t help but laugh at herself again. How foolish of her—given the tragic ending of her previous life, returning to this world, she naturally had no foundation for trust. How could she think of depending on anyone? She could only rely on herself.

Among them all—including the rumored traitor Fei Huan, including the seemingly uninvolved and refined Prince Xiao Chen—who was suspicious? Who was trustworthy? Who was enemy? Who was friend?

Qin Chang Ge smiled slightly, her smile growing increasingly cheerful.

The horse galloped swiftly.

Above the dark canopy of sky, starlight seemed to flow like water.

Clouds dispersed, revealing a bright moon whose clear light traveled a thousand li, illuminating the smooth road ahead.

The woman before him had a slender waist that could be encircled by one’s hands, her lustrous black hair brushing against her face, carrying the refreshing scent of mint and magnolia—rare fragrances that somehow purified one’s spirit.

Su Xuan closed his eyes and breathed deeply. When he opened them again, his gaze was filled with sorrow.

The woman in his memories, that noble woman who seemed to dwell among clouds, visible only from afar—if she were still alive, what fragrances would she favor?

He couldn’t imagine, didn’t dare to imagine. He always felt that each time he thought of her, he defiled her memory. She should have been a flawless celestial maiden banished from heaven’s court, yet she had once touched his pain and earthly dust. That sense of defilement made him feel guilty and remorseful for life, and the constant yearning over the years had caused him such profound anguish.

That year, that person, that moment when she turned back in the flying snow—her radiant gaze, brilliant enough to steal one’s breath, swept past and landed upon him.

Landed upon the filthy, ragged youth crouched in mud, stench, blood, and groans.

At that time, he had huddled in a street corner, waiting to die.