Night. Sometimes long, sometimes fleeting.

That night, Ziqing wasn’t even sure how she’d drifted off into a hazy sleep.

But she knew, somehow, that it had been the most beautiful night in a very, very long time — nestled in his arms, chatting idly with him about so many, many things.

Things like his childhood, everything about his life before he’d met her, and everything that had happened during the days they’d been apart.

Some were significant matters, and she listened, utterly absorbed; others were small, trivial things, and she listened to those just as attentively.

As she listened, she found herself, every so often, unable to resist reaching up to touch his jaw. From where she lay, gazing up at him, his jawline, the way his throat moved when he spoke, were both particularly captivating.

It made her want to kiss him, and sometimes, as he spoke, he’d pause, looking down at her, watching her, and then lean in to kiss her, not stopping until she’d protest, at which point he’d finally pull away.

That night was, in truth, quite long, and yet it felt achingly brief — if only time could have slowed down just a little more.

Later, growing tired, Ziqing thought she’d rest just a little while, then wake and listen to him continue. But when she finally, hazily stirred awake, dawn had already broken.

The space beside her on the pillow was empty — no sign of Jun Beiyue.

A sudden, inexplicable panic seized her, and she sat up at once, only to spot him standing by the window, studying a sealed dispatch, his sword-shaped brows drawn tight.

The moment she saw the cover of that dispatch, Ziqing knew at once — it was a battle report from the Tiger Army, and Jun Beiyue’s expression told her something had gone wrong on the northern front.

After all, every previous dispatch from the Tiger Army had brought nothing but victories.

She rose and dressed quickly, remembering to brew him a cup of green tea before bringing it over. “What happened?”

“Minhanmuder has descended from the northern highlands ahead of schedule!” Jun Beiyue said flatly — a single sentence that laid bare the full crisis unfolding on the northern front.

“How could that be!” Ziqing exclaimed in shock. Minhanmuder had no reason to do this — descending from the northern highlands meant forfeiting his terrain advantage. He could easily have waited for Jun Beiyue’s forces to reach the base of the highlands before launching his attack.

And if he’d taken a more conservative strategy, avoiding an offensive entirely and simply letting the two armies remain locked in stalemate, he would have gained tremendous advantage from it — because it was the dead of winter now, and the northern highlands were bitterly cold, unlikely to warm until the following summer.

Under such harsh conditions, Da Zhou’s army simply couldn’t sustain a prolonged standoff against the Xiongnu forces — not without vast reserves of winter bedding and provisions.

“He’s forcing this prince to change strategy,” Jun Beiyue said coldly. The only reason he’d felt safe leaving in the first place was that the Three Great Tiger Armies, driving all the way to the base of the northern highlands, could manage perfectly well without requiring his personal presence to direct them.

But now that the situation had shifted so drastically, at such a sensitive moment, he had no choice but to be present in person to make the crucial decisions.

Hearing this, Ziqing immediately understood what was happening. “Someone leaked information!”

Minhanmuder knew Jun Beiyue had left — that was precisely why he’d made his move now, to expose the secret that Jun Beiyue was absent from the army, to throw the Tiger Army into chaos.

From the moment the dispatch left Dong Qin to reach Jun Beiyue’s hands, even at the shadow guards’ fastest possible speed, it would have taken at least ten-odd days. Which meant this had already happened over ten days ago.

What the current situation on the northern front truly looked like now, no one could say.

The moment Minhanmuder descended, the Three Great Tiger Armies would be forced into an immediate decision — whether to retreat, or what strategy to adopt for the fight ahead.

At a moment like this, without a leader present to take charge, Da Zhou’s army — facing, for the first time, an enemy even more savage than the Xiliang forces — would fall into chaos, and not just among the ordinary soldiers. Even the generals themselves would be thrown into disarray.

“Who leaked it!” Ziqing said coldly. None of this was the most terrifying part — the truly terrifying possibility was that there was a spy embedded within the army itself.

Jun Beiyue’s departure had been kept strictly confidential the entire time — the only place he’d revealed his identity openly had been in the northern steppe.

“Could it have been someone from the northern steppe…” Ziqing said in shock, but on second thought, dismissed the idea immediately — judging by the timing of this dispatch, Minhanmuder had already made his move before Jun Beiyue had even arrived in the northern steppe at all.

Which meant, without question, there was a spy embedded within the army.

Jun Beiyue fell into deep thought, and Ziqing, gritting her teeth — though reluctant to part, she was always more decisive than Jun Beiyue in moments like this — spoke up. “Beiyue, you need to leave right away! I have to hurry back to the northern steppe as soon as possible too!”

Jun Beiyue looked at her, about to speak, when Ziqing grabbed his hand and smiled instead. “One month. Just this last month of our six-month bet. And no more sneaking off to visit me!”

Hearing this, Jun Beiyue couldn’t help but shake his head, half helpless, half wryly amused. So many people had called this woman a bringer of misfortune, a temptress — but he, more than anyone, knew the truth. She wasn’t that at all. She was the wisest, most supportive partner he could ever have, and the only one truly qualified to stand shoulder to shoulder with him as a comrade in arms.

Jun Beiyue took Ziqing’s hand and pressed a firm, deliberate kiss to it. “It’s a deal. Let’s go.”

Once said, they departed at once.

She never walked ahead of him, side by side — instead, she trailed slightly behind, letting him lead her by the hand as she followed in his footsteps. In the quiet stillness of early morning, he led her down the corridor, through the great hall, through the entire palace.

Ziqing suddenly felt a strange illusion overtake her — as if this man were leading her through ten thousand mountains and rivers, across the span of several centuries.

If only it could always be like this.

Even when her hair turned white, even when she could no longer move as swiftly as she did now, if she could still be led like this, still trailing behind him just as she was now — just as he’d once led her away from the Prime Minister’s estate all those years ago — how wonderful that would be.

After bidding farewell to the Emperor of Xijing, Jun Beiyue and Ziqing departed Akbachu through the eastern gate. Yelu Qianqian escorted them all the way out of the city — Jun Beiyue had already told her not to bother, but she’d insisted on coming anyway.

That foolish girl had no idea how maddening it was to have a third wheel tagging along.

Finally, at the fork in the road at Shalong Head — one path heading northeast toward Dong Qin, the other northwest toward the northern steppe — Yelu Qianqian finally stopped, and Ziqing and Jun Beiyue had no choice but to part ways right there.

“Princess Qianqian, please head back,” Jun Beiyue said, patience wearing thin, his tone cold.

Yelu Qianqian felt somewhat intimidated by him, but still met his eyes directly. “I still have a few things to say to Ziqing. Please wait a moment — once I’m done, I’ll go back right away!”

Jun Beiyue drew a deep breath and turned his back on them.

Yelu Qianqian, still uneasy, pulled Ziqing aside before finally speaking. “Han Ziqing, don’t worry — I’ll go destroy that hidden chamber tonight! I’ll go alone, just a little bit at a time, every day, until I’ve destroyed every last piece — the jade slabs, the herbs, all of it.”

Ziqing watched Yelu Qianqian’s earnest expression and nodded without a word.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine — I’d rather die than ever tell a soul!” Yelu Qianqian promised again.

Ziqing nodded once more. She had to admit, she still felt some resistance to this entire matter — if the girl standing before her had been anyone other than Yelu Qianqian, given her own nature, she’d likely have simply eliminated the witness on the spot.

But unfortunately, this was Yelu Qianqian — a princess whose fate carried weight for the entire realm, and, more importantly, Situ Haonan’s future wife.

Ziqing squeezed Yelu Qianqian’s hand and said quietly, “Qianqian, thank you. Go on back now.”

“Once you and Haonan return victorious, I’ll take you both to Mingsha Mountain. I know that’s what you’re really after,” Yelu Qianqian added.

Ziqing was slightly startled. This girl, having spent so much time around Nanny Qin, seemed to have grown noticeably sharper. She smiled. “Alright!”

Only then did Yelu Qianqian leave, thoroughly satisfied, while Jun Beiyue turned back with a frown. “What were you two talking about just now?”