The huge apricot-yellow “Ning” banner wended into camp. Beneath the banner, a man in light robes and loose sash looked up at the dust clouds rising from the camp’s north gate, smiled, and said with admiration: “What fierce cavalry!”

Chunyu Hong, who had come to greet him, stroked his beard and nodded. “Your Highness is truly wise—merely from the dust clouds, you’ve already discerned this cavalry unit is extremely fierce. Such discernment far exceeds ours.”

Immediately, flattering words surged from all sides. Everyone knew Prince Chu wielded great power—if not to curry favor now, when?

“Whose cavalry is this?” No matter how the praise flowed like tide, Ning Yi maintained that faint smile. “Based on this troop training skill alone, I can request merit for him.”

“This is the Huzhuo Shunyi Iron Cavalry, the unit that has repeatedly achieved battle merits recently,” Chunyu Hong said. “Led by Lord Wei, who has returned from his disappearance.”

Ning Yi suddenly stopped speaking. Someone inadvertently glanced over and noticed the smile on his face suddenly freeze.

Those present were all shrewd—seeing His Highness, who never showed emotions outwardly, suddenly change expression, they immediately fell silent in apprehension.

The surrounding sounds abruptly stilled. Chunyu Hong didn’t notice, eloquently describing this cavalry’s illustrious achievements, mentioning Wei Zhi’s newly earned Great Yue title “Grassland Fox.” After talking for some time, he realized Ning Yi hadn’t said a word, only gazing absently toward where the dust clouds had disappeared. Feeling somewhat awkward, he laughed nervously and stopped.

Ning Yi immediately noticed, smiled lightly, and said: “Hearing you describe the Shunyi Iron Cavalry and Lord Wei’s anti-Yue exploits truly stirs the blood and inspires admiration. This merit must be requested. Your main camp’s excellent coordination also deserves reporting to His Majesty for commendation.”

At these words, everyone’s faces lit with joy, all thinking the legendary Prince Chu was indeed shrewd and capable, skilled at networking. The main camp clearly hadn’t engaged in battle recently, yet his words still made everyone feel satisfied. No wonder he’d become the court’s most prominent prince.

But Chunyu Hong’s thoughts reached further. He served under Prince Chu. Now that he was commander-in-chief, logically this supervisor shouldn’t be Prince Chu. Initial rumors said the Seventh Prince would come as supervisor—somehow it changed to Prince Chu instead. A commander and supervisor from the same faction was a taboo for rulers. Heaven knew how much effort His Highness had expended to make this happen.

From Xin Ziyan leaving the capital to assume military advisor at Yuzhou main camp, one could see His Highness had spared no effort to become this supervisor, even willing to sacrifice his most important hidden piece. Xin Ziyan had always appeared in court as Prince Chu’s opponent, earning His Majesty’s favor precisely for this, becoming an important figure for balancing Prince Chu. Because of this, Xin Ziyan was His Highness’s most crucial covert supporter in court, conveniently managing most capital affairs. Now His Majesty, to balance having commander and supervisor from the same faction, had specifically dispatched Xin Ziyan to “monitor” His Highness. Though this still fell into His Highness’s trap, losing Xin Ziyan’s presence in the Imperial Capital meant His Highness’s entire main force was far away in the Northern Frontier—if anything happened, there was no retreat. The consequences were even more terrifying.

With the Imperial Capital’s winds and clouds constantly shifting, he unexpectedly wasn’t stationed there, even willing to sacrifice Xin Ziyan, not fearing others would seize opportunities—all to come to the Northern Frontier as this supervisor. Why?

Chunyu Hong’s mind was in chaos. For the wise and intelligent His Highness, this seemed a foolish move, completely contrary to Prince Chu’s faction’s interests. He wondered if there was some deeper meaning? Yet no matter how he looked at it, this situation appeared disadvantageous to Prince Chu.

Just as he was thinking whether to find an opportunity to tactfully probe His Highness, someone came running frantically, shouting from afar: “Commander! Commander! Trouble—”

“This is a military camp! What are you shouting about!” Chunyu Hong’s face darkened. Making such a commotion before His Highness without any composure—wasn’t this making His Highness laugh at his poor command?

In extreme anger, he was about to order that tactless staff general dragged out for a whipping when Ning Yi suddenly raised his hand to stop him.

He looked toward the direction the staff general was running from—exactly the direction Feng Zhiwei had disappeared with the Huzhuo Iron Cavalry.

“What happened?”

That staff general looked up and saw him, his expression immediately changing. Ning Yi watched his expression, eyes slowly narrowing.

By now, someone had carried up Zhu Shirong’s corpse. Chunyu Hong’s face paled.

The staff general explained what had happened. As he spoke, he kept glancing at Ning Yi. Chunyu Hong pulled him aside, stamping his foot and cursing quietly: “You fool! Why didn’t you remind Wei Zhi this is Prince Chu’s…”

“I did tell him,” the staff general said with a bitter face. “Who knew that once I said it…”

He looked back at Ning Yi, not daring to continue.

Chunyu Hong was also dumbfounded, looking back at Ning Yi.

Ning Yi remained seated on his horse throughout, seemingly not hearing their conversation, only staring at Zhu Shirong who had been stabbed through the heart. This man was his subordinate who had met him through Grand Secretary Hu’s introduction. This lucrative position of Northern Campaign supply officer had been arranged by the Ministry of War at his suggestion.

And today, upon his arrival, this person died.

Killed for him to see, wasn’t it?

Looking at that stab through the heart, the strike was ruthless—one could imagine her complete lack of hesitation when giving this order.

When she thrust the blade, was she imagining this person as him?

She killed the man and immediately left camp—perhaps not fearing he’d pursue culpability, but simply not wanting to see him?

Ning Yi gazed at the massive blood hole in Zhu Shirong’s chest. After a long moment, he slowly raised his hand, pressing against his own chest at the same location.

There, too, a blood hole seemed to suddenly appear, piercing through the fiercely howling winds of the plateau.

It seemed to hurt, seemed empty, yet perhaps it was all just a dream.

The case of Zhu Shirong’s killing ultimately didn’t pursue Wei Zhi’s culpability. In Ning Yi’s words, General Wei’s merits outweighed faults. Moreover, Zhu Shirong’s violation of military orders deserved death. So summoning General Wei to receive the edict with minor punishment would suffice.

But ultimately, Feng Zhiwei didn’t even receive the edict Ning Yi brought appointing Wei Zhi as deputy general. Chunyu Hong couldn’t find her anymore. She’d reportedly already led the cavalry into the southern Gedamu Range where she’d found a small path that, with slight development, could directly attack the rear of Great Yue’s main camp. Military matters were urgent and couldn’t be delayed—she’d receive the edict after the operation, etc.

Ning Yi smiled helplessly at Yao Yangyu, who Feng Zhiwei had sent back to convey General Wei’s message word for word. He said nothing, setting aside the edict bearing Wei Zhi’s name.

“If His Highness has no other instructions, this subordinate takes his leave.” Yao Yangyu, completely devoid of his Imperial Capital dissolute air, crisply gave a military salute and was about to rush back to catch up with the troops.

“Yangyu.”

Yao Yangyu stopped at the tent entrance.

Fine dust motes floated in the tent. In the light and shadow, Ning Yi’s face was blurred. Yao Yangyu only saw him lightly spinning a brush between his fingertips, as if pondering some difficult matter.

Yao Yangyu waited a while, heart anxious about the departed troops, somewhat impatiently about to speak.

But Ning Yi seemed to have made up his mind.

“General Wei… is she well?”

Relieved, Yao Yangyu had thought whatever made His Highness so troubled must be an impossibly difficult question. Hearing this, he smiled easily: “The General is very well.”

“In what way well?” Ning Yi hesitated again before speaking, silently cursing—why had this kid who used to talk incessantly become so economical with words after enlisting and following Feng Zhiwei?

“Ah? Just very well.” Yao Yangyu widened his eyes, not understanding what His Highness wanted to know.

“I mean!” Ning Yi finally lost his temper, setting down his brush heavily. “How is her spirit? Her diet? Has she gained or lost weight? Has she been injured? Where is she now?”

“Oh.” Yao Yangyu suddenly understood, but frowned, feeling His Highness’s questions, though consistent with a superior’s concern for subordinates, seemed more verbose than he remembered?

Ning Yi’s gaze looked over—though still his emotionless expression, somehow that look made one feel… cold.

Yao Yangyu hastily said: “Her spirit is excellent, though she doesn’t eat much. I always feel the General seems not to like grassland food, but I’ve never seen her show it. Only once, when grain supplies hadn’t arrived yet, the supply officer first distributed some cheese cakes to tide us over. The General took half a piece and ate it with apparent relish in front of everyone, then turned and disappeared. I was worried and followed to look. As a result…”

He hesitated and stopped.

“What result?” Ning Yi wanted to glare at him again. How did following Feng Zhiwei so long make him learn her infuriating habit of saying half sentences and leaving half unsaid?

“As a result, I saw the General behind the hill wanting to vomit but desperately clutching her own throat refusing to let herself vomit, holding it in until… just watching made me uncomfortable…” Yao Yangyu bit his lip, eyes reddening slightly.

Ning Yi fell silent, slowly supporting his head with his hand.

You… have always been someone lenient with yourself. You know worldly matters are often difficult, so with foods you don’t like, you’ve never been willing to force yourself. Yet now even in such small matters, you’ve learned to compel yourself.

Or rather, who forced you to force yourself?

He rested his elbow on the desk, quietly listening to the wind, thinking faintly of past events in a heart full of loneliness, dark hair hanging long like flowing water, half-covering his face.

Yao Yangyu quieted down, not daring to let his restless spur sounds disturb this moment’s silent, vicissitudinous atmosphere.

After a long time, an almost inaudible sigh came, faint words drifting from the haze.

“And then…”

“Then Lord Gu came.” Yao Yangyu was silent a moment before answering quietly. “Lord Gu patted the General’s back, then… then I left.”

Somehow, he just felt that seeing Gu Nanyi pull the General into his embrace, carefully and habitually patting the General’s back—that scene wasn’t suitable to tell His Highness.

Not saying it, yet already guessing, Ning Yi fell silent, his gaze hidden in shadow flickering darkly. He simply stopped speaking altogether.

This moment’s vast loneliness made even one’s heart feel empty. Yao Yangyu, pressured by this strange atmosphere until his heart grew anxious, urgently wanting to fill this moment’s emptiness with words, hastily said cheerfully and loudly: “That was just my guess that the General isn’t adapted to grassland food. The General’s spirit is very good—hasn’t gotten thin, hasn’t gotten dark. Sleeps later than us, wakes earlier than us. A few days ago, Great Yue cavalry intercepted us. That day the General personally entered battle, then—”

He stopped again.

Ning Yi looked up at him.

“It’s nothing really…” Yao Yangyu stammered, silently cursing his loose tongue. “…Little Huang was knocked from his horse and pinned underneath. The General went to save him and took a stray arrow…”

His voice grew quieter. Though the person opposite said nothing, he felt the surrounding air suddenly turn cold and tight, like a rope soaked in icy well water, binding him—bone-piercing cold without breath.

Pursing his lips, Yao Yangyu thought today he’d really lost composure. Probably the General’s injury had driven everyone a bit mad. Like Lord Gu actually punishing himself with three days facing the wall, ignoring whoever came, making the General go apologize in a humble voice—truly bizarre no matter how one thought about it.

“Tell your General something from me.” Before Yao Yangyu was forced to flee by this silence, Ning Yi finally spoke. “—Great enmity lies ahead. Sooner or later it can be destroyed. Rest assured. But some matters shouldn’t be rushed. Jin Siyu is gentle outwardly but venomous within. To kill a commander, one must have a foolproof strategy before acting. Never act rashly. Remember this.”

Yao Yangyu paused, hearing Ning Yi’s grave tone, and nodded in acknowledgment. But Ning Yi didn’t dismiss him, thinking a while longer before saying: “Your cavalry camp—the Huzhuo tribe consists of warriors untrained in military affairs, while those commanding are mostly young people, prone to merit-seeking rashness. How about this—let Wei Yu go with you.”

Yao Yangyu paused again. He knew Wei Yu—a colonel in Yuzhou main camp’s seventh battalion. His father was Prince Chu’s estate steward, making him a genuine Prince Chu estate house-born servant. Sending such a person to the Shunyi Iron Cavalry was clearly to act as supervisor. With the General’s seemingly gentle yet actually contemptuous nature, would she tolerate another set of eyes and ears in the military?

But Ning Yi had already waved his hand, ordering him to withdraw.

Yao Yangyu had no choice. Walking to the tent edge and looking back, Ning Yi maintained that elbow-propped posture, fingers idly drawing something on the desk. Long lashes lowered, between his brows a faint weariness.

Pale moonlight shone through the raised curtain. In the distance, warriors sharpened blades with scraping sounds. That person sat silent in darkness, pillowed by lonely moonlight, listening to the frontier’s piercing blade sounds.

Someone in a tent pillowed by lonely moonlight; someone on high ground bathed in frontier winds.

Feng Zhiwei and Hua Qiong lay shoulder to shoulder on a slope outside camp, bodies sprawled beneath the sky full of stars.

Hua Qiong had given birth to a son some time ago. After completing her confinement period, she resolutely left her son at Huzhuo royal court entrusted to Helian Zheng, coming herself to the Northern Frontier to join Feng Zhiwei. Like Feng Zhiwei, she exchanged hairpins for caps, fighting across battlefields. Born to a Nanhai farming family, she’d been trained agile and healthy since childhood doing farm work. Intelligent too—Zong Chen personally instructed her in horsemanship and martial arts. Her progress was meteoric. Moreover, she struck ruthlessly with strong decisions. Now she was a renowned fierce general by Feng Zhiwei’s side. Reportedly Great Yue had given her the title “Black Widow.”

The reason for “Black Widow” wasn’t guessing her female identity, but rather it was the name of a Great Yue poisonous insect with a pair of sharp pincers like twin blades—remarkably similar to the twin-blade-wielding Hua Qiong.

Feng Zhiwei also felt that beneath moonlight, Hua Qiong with black hair clenched in teeth, twin blades raised, charging toward enemy formations, truly resembled a fierce black widow.

“You’re unhappy?” Hua Qiong’s question wasn’t a query but a statement.

Feng Zhiwei bit a grass root, smiled, was about to speak when Hua Qiong immediately continued: “Forget it. Your next explanation will definitely be about Prince Chu sending a spy making you uncomfortable. But Zhiwei, if between us you still use such excuses to put me off, you’re not being loyal enough.”

Feng Zhiwei laughed. “I was going to say you’re getting more and more formidable. I haven’t said anything yet and you’ve already blocked my mouth… Fine, it’s not about Wei Yu. What does he matter? I don’t know what Ning Yi wants to do, but he should understand—putting someone by my side will be completely useless.”

“You…” Hua Qiong sighed deeply. “Usually so calm and wise, but encountering anything related to Ning Yi, you lose half your usual composure.”

Feng Zhiwei remained silent.

“How long do you plan to keep avoiding him?”

“No need to avoid.” Feng Zhiwei said lazily. “Winter is coming soon. Either a major decisive battle or preparing to withdraw troops. The Northern Frontier climate is severe. Great Yue’s side is accustomed to cold and unaffected. But our border troops and provincial armies—many were rotated from the south. The soldiers won’t endure it well. Even if we drag through winter, spring road conditions will be even worse for troop movements. Watch—if Great Yue doesn’t withdraw, Ning Yi should be preparing for decisive battle.”

“Then you…”

“I want to seize the greatest merit.” Feng Zhiwei sat up, looking at Baitou Mountain ahead. Right here, recently Helian Zheng had sent her word that a herdsman knew of a hidden path here—straight through, with the cliff below opening onto Jin Siyu’s main camp.

“Look.” She counted on her fingers for Hua Qiong, calculating Tiansheng’s forces. “Ning Yi’s main camp has ten infantry battalions, four crossbow battalions, one shield battalion, two logistics battalions. Yuzhou has similar forces. Countless subordinate generals. Since Qiu Shangqi’s defeat, no new merits achieved. Prince Chu’s trusted subordinates planted in various battalions also haven’t established an inch of merit. All desperately need a decisive battle to achieve this. And our Huzhuo cavalry—ultimately we’re just peripheral forces. This period we’ve been stealing the spotlight, already making the generals very dissatisfied. So once decisive battle unfolds, Huzhuo cavalry will definitely be arranged on flanks for penetration charges, never serving as the spearhead. That’s why I’ve always stayed outside the main camp, fighting independently—in the main camp, there’s no room for us.”

“But once decisive battle begins, you must obey main camp orders.”

“Exactly,” Feng Zhiwei bit her lower lip. “So I want to prevent them from fighting this decisive battle. I want the greatest merit to fall solely into Shunyi Iron Cavalry’s hands. Chunyu Meng has come over now too, plus Yangyu and them—many Imperial Capital aristocratic descendants in Shunyi Iron Cavalry. As long as they establish great merit in this battle, in future they’ll be Tiansheng military’s backbone force. This is a rare opportunity.”

Hua Qiong fell silent, murmuring after a long moment: “Too risky…”

“Great achievements are always found in danger.” Feng Zhiwei laughed coldly.

Hua Qiong contemplated a long while, then laughed heartily: “I’ll always follow you.”

“Better not go this time.” Feng Zhiwei said. “The child is still small. Helian Zheng wrote the other day saying he can smile now…”

Mentioning her son, Hua Qiong’s bright eyes also tinged with maternal softness, smiling: “Day before yesterday I made him a patchwork bib, had the King’s messenger take it back. Don’t know if he’s wearing it yet. I also made one for Zhixiao. Heard she’s growing fast—hope it’s not too small.”

“Don’t mention Zhixiao.” Feng Zhiwei hastily covered her mouth, fearfully looking around, afraid the invisible Young Master Gu might suddenly appear. “Nanyi most can’t bear those two words. Don’t be fooled by his silence—he thinks about it a lot. That day I saw Zhixiao’s old milk bottle in his bundle. He’s actually been carrying it with him.”

Hua Qiong giggled, saying: “Good. The jade carving is becoming more and more human, knowing longing is good.”

“Oh? Everyone who’s human knows longing.” Feng Zhiwei glanced at her sideways. “Do you know or not?”

“Me?” Hua Qiong played dumb, smoothing her temples, sniffing. “I know. I long for my Hua Changtian.”

Feng Zhiwei smiled strangely.

“Why are you smiling?” Hua Qiong looked at her in shock.

Feng Zhiwei pursed her lips, saying nothing, rummaging around in her clothes for something. After a moment she pulled out a letter, pressed it against her heart, affected a sigh, and said: “Certain people are so pitiful. Thinking day and night, tossing and turning, exhausting themselves searching across the Central Plains, yet encountering the world’s most heartless woman who doesn’t mention it once, still thinking of another man!”

Hua Qiong’s eyes lit up as she reached to snatch the letter. “Let me see!”

Feng Zhiwei, looking at her unaffected expression, also felt rare bright joy in her heart. Suddenly a teasing mood arose. She tucked the letter behind her back, smiling: “Huh? What for? What does it have to do with you? Go away, don’t disturb this general contemplating military matters.”

“Military matters my ass.” Hua Qiong pounced to pinch her face. “You bad woman, actually hiding my letter from me. Watch me not tear you apart!”

“What’s it to you, what’s it to you, you spring-fevered woman.” Feng Zhiwei clutched the letter and ran off. Hua Qiong roared and grabbed her sash, pulling her down. The two rolled together on the grass, crisp bright laughter shooting to the clouds, startling even the crescent moon to shine brighter, peeking its head from cloud layers to secretly watch—watching this peerless woman’s rare pure joy, casting off heavy concerns.

“You… shrew…” After tussling a long while, Feng Zhiwei tired, gasping and sprawled on the slope, waving the letter at Hua Qiong. “…I should… not tell you… let you die of anxiety…”

Hua Qiong gave her a look, snatched the letter, went smiling down the slope to read it. Feng Zhiwei sat up, rolling her eyes—this woman actually had to find a place to hide to read the letter.

She lay down comfortably, arms behind her head, smiling faintly at the crescent moon like a smiling eye, feeling tonight’s moon was especially bright, the wind especially refreshing. The wind carried the faint yet richly clear fragrance of gentian and cosmos flowers, making one want to sing beneath such moonlight.

She thought she could guess what the letter would say—that clever, intelligent youth had once thought yearning wasn’t love, had forgotten to contemplate the feelings behind marriage’s natural course due to its taken-for-granted nature. Yet once she left him, he suddenly understood—there was a completeness whose preciousness wasn’t felt when present, only shockingly felt empty after loss.

To search for nearly a year, to find her here through countless twists and turns—one could imagine how many difficulties Yan Huaishi had experienced. Such difficulties had already proven all his feelings.

Thumping footsteps came from down the slope. Hua Qiong strode up, delicate face slightly flushed, eyes bright. The thin letter fluttered between her fingers like dancing butterflies.

She ran before Feng Zhiwei and stopped, chest rising and falling as she looked at her, seeming to want to say something yet momentarily unable to speak. Suddenly she whirled around, thumping back down again.

Feng Zhiwei sat up in shock, wanting to laugh yet couldn’t.

What joy filled her chest so full that even words couldn’t express it, ready to explode heart and lungs, exploding to heaven.

Feng Zhiwei smiled, genuinely feeling happy for that woman, but didn’t notice her own eyes had somehow been veiled with mist-like faint sorrow.

Thump thump thump—footsteps sounded. Hua Qiong ran back up. This time Feng Zhiwei truly couldn’t help it. Just about to tease her, Hua Qiong suddenly carefully tucked the letter in her bosom, hands on hips, facing the Northern Frontier’s vast sky, shouting:

“Ah! I’m so happy!”

“I’m so happy I’m so happy I’m so happy I’m so happy…” The surrounding distant mountains rumbled that supremely joyful cry outward, then boundlessly reflected it back, continuously reverberating in everyone’s ears.

Feng Zhiwei’s tears burst forth.

That night, the Northern Frontier’s winds swept clean. Beneath the high ridge, two people lay head to head listening to night’s song.

Hua Qiong pressed the letter against her heart, eyes closed in false sleep, suddenly sniffed and said: “Feng Zhiwei, how many days since you last bathed?”

Feng Zhiwei didn’t move, lazily saying: “Same as you.”

Both sat up, looking at each other. Already no bathing facilities, plus just now’s wild romping—their hair was full of dust. Not mentioning it was fine, but once mentioned, they felt unbearably filthy. Not bathing would mean death.

“Just now when I circled around below, I saw a river in the distance.” Hua Qiong pointed west.

“Good, let’s bathe!” Feng Zhiwei immediately rose, saying to the air: “Brother Gu, I’m going to bathe, just nearby. Don’t worry.”

Hua Qiong giggled, saying: “You should worry whether you’ll be seen naked. He’ll definitely follow.”

“Men and women—impropriety must not be viewed.” Feng Zhiwei said solemnly. “He understands this.”

“Right. Zhixiao’s baths are all washed by his own hands. Isn’t Zhixiao female?”

Feng Zhiwei smiled awkwardly, pulling her along. “Only you’re verbose. Come on!”

The river wasn’t large. Across it was a small grove with a few sparse trees. The river water was clear and cold, glinting under moonlight. The two looked and immediately felt even itchier. Hua Qiong had already started undressing. Feng Zhiwei hastily gestured behind her.

Young Master Gu who had followed obediently turned around.

He sat by the river, back to it, facing a large rock. On the rock lay their clothes. Feng Zhiwei relaxed, removed her mask and clothing, and entered the river.

Fighting across the Northern Frontier, unable to bathe for so long—this opportunity was rare. Feng Zhiwei decided to thoroughly wash even her hair. She loosened her long hair, standing in the river, slowly combing through slightly tangled locks.

Moonlight poured down like milk, illuminating the small river, illuminating the exquisite slender female form in the river, then illuminating the white rock on shore.

Young Master Gu sat before the white rock, earnestly guarding two women’s clothing.

Under the moon, the white rock was like a mirror, reflecting scenery from the river. And he happened to sit before this mirror.

The white rock like an unfurled screen, reflecting a woman’s slender exquisite curves, hair like a waterfall, draped over delicate shoulders, draped over a wonderful wave-like contour, almost reaching her knees. Long legs like jade bamboo, a pipa-inverted smooth body arc reaching the waist in impossibly slender gathering, then upward, a perfectly proportioned slight rise…

Gu Nanyi suddenly turned his gaze away. In that instant, moonlight showed faintly through, revealing his reddened ear tips.

His first blush in life, only for that person’s form projected on white rock.

Fingers somewhat at a loss clutched tightly at grass underfoot. Gu Nanyi’s heart, calm for over a decade, at this night’s moment, upon seeing clearly that stone’s scenery, suddenly began pounding, faster and faster, more and more turbulent, as if wild horses burst forth somewhere, hooves kicking in alarm, instantly trampling chaotic ten thousand li of rivers and mountains.

Starfire scattered, sounds rapid and rushing. Unable to hear sounds on all sides, unable to see heaven and earth’s dome. Gu Nanyi pressed his wildly pounding heart, thinking at this moment he’d contracted a fatal illness.

He sat bewildered in a bosom of first stirring desire, struggling to control his life’s first runaway consciousness horses. Thus in the chaos he didn’t notice—behind where he faced away, across the river in the small grove, were some extremely faint sounds.

There, behind a pile of scattered rocks, a figure lurked silently. In darkness, a pair of eyes slender and bright, like ghostly fire gleaming.

He fixed intently on the two women in the river, gaze heavily falling on Feng Zhiwei.

In the moonlit small river, water sounds concealed everything. Feng Zhiwei concentrated on combing her tangled disheveled hair. Half her face fell in moonlight—skin luminous as snow, a countenance refined and elegant to the point of unworldliness.

Moonlight struck beneath her long lashes, showing a layer of faint gentle arc shadow. Having removed her double mask, washing away turmeric, washing away smoke-darkened lowered brows, she revealed crystal skin, flying brows, and misty autumn-water eyes.

The figure in the grove stared at Feng Zhiwei, eyes full of strange light. Then his gaze fell on the human skin mask pressed by rocks on the riverbank.

He gradually showed a thin thread of smile, like a steel wire, drawn across this tranquil night, sweeping out edge like snow.

After a long while, Feng Zhiwei and Hua Qiong finished washing and came ashore. Gu Nanyi remained rigidly facing away, not turning around.

That dark shadow waited until the three departed before vanishing like light smoke beneath the moon.

On the grasslands, the sun rose with ten thousand rays of light. Beneath sunlight, a long convoy wended along.

This was the convoy transporting grain to Feng Zhiwei’s Shunyi Iron Cavalry. Huzhuo tribe’s grain had always been requisitioned nearby from Yuzhou. Originally the Shunyi Iron Cavalry could request grain allocation from the main camp, but Feng Zhiwei fought across the Northern Frontier, appearing and disappearing unpredictably. Moreover, she didn’t trust the main camp enough, so Yuzhou still allocated grain to Huzhuo, with Helian Zheng and Feng Zhiwei agreeing on grain collection locations. Huzhuo tribespeople were familiar with terrain, also avoiding Great Yue’s exploitation.

This grain convoy was somewhat different—extraordinarily orderly and solemn with tight protective encirclement—because Prince Shunyi was also in the procession.

Though Feng Zhiwei hadn’t told Helian Zheng of her battle plans, Helian Zheng guessed from her movements that she intended to take risks. Worried, he entrusted Huzhuo affairs to Grand Empress Dowager Mudan, personally escorting this grain shipment to liaise with Feng Zhiwei.

To take risks—take them together.

Anyway, the grasslands had Grand Empress Dowager Mudan, and “Living Buddha Zhixiao.”

Helian Zheng rode his horse, thinking he’d soon see Feng Zhiwei, smile bright at his lips.

Ahead suddenly stalled briefly, then some commotion arose.

Helian Zheng straightened.

“Great King!”

A warrior ran over, eyes shocked. “Ahead… ahead…”

Helian Zheng frowned. Not waiting for him to finish, he spurred his horse forward.

His horse was precisely Jin Siyu’s supreme Yue horse. Feng Zhiwei had given him this horse. Jin Siyu and Helian Zheng had indirect father-killing enmity. Helian Zheng had spent long training this horse well. Riding it was most satisfying.

Among the crowd ahead, vaguely was a disheveled woman barely clothed.

Helian Zheng’s heart jumped. His first reaction almost thought the cavalry had met disaster with someone coming to report. Looking carefully—it wasn’t. Looking more carefully, he froze.

“Mei… Mei…” He rarely stuttered.

The person on the ground raised her head. On a purple-blue swollen face beyond recognition, only a pair of eyes still held their former color.

Upon seeing Helian Zheng, she first froze, as if mentally slow, squinting through swollen eyes at him for a long while. When she recognized him, tears instantly silently filled her face.

It was that soundless crying—as if countless fountains existed within her body, silently endlessly spraying liquid, seemingly with no end, forever flowing down this way.

She cried until her whole body convulsed, eyes rolling white. Those streaming tears flowed down her scarred swollen face, washing face-covering dust into gullies, yet never managing any crying sound.

Without extremely deep, profound, wordless pain, no one could cry this way.

Everyone showed unbearable expressions.

They all recognized Meido—that honored, vivid woman who for so many years lived princess-like at the royal court. No one could connect the current unbearably miserable her with her former self.

“Meido! How did you become like this!” Helian Zheng dismounted, embracing her in one motion. “How could you—”

His voice suddenly stopped, slowly looking at Meido’s skirts—beneath barely-clothed tattered leather robes, disheveled undergarments showed entirely, those undergarments covered with spotted old bloodstains, also emitting a rotten stinking odor that made one want to vomit.

Helian Zheng’s expression changed.

“Azha!”

After trembling so long, Meido, in the moment he froze, finally exploded her first words.

“Azha—” Once she opened her mouth it was howling, voice already broken, exploding like a night owl in silent air, sounding terrifying. “If you want to kill me, kill me. Why do this to me, why…”

She struggled to crawl up, madly throwing herself at Helian Zheng, sharp ten fingers grabbing his arm, nails digging deadly into his flesh. She desperately headbutted him, hysterically screaming: “Why not kill me kill me kill me—”

Helian Zheng didn’t move, letting her claw and butt. His arms were covered in bloody marks, fine blood flowing down, dripping on grass. Guards rushed up to pull her away. Helian Zheng’s fierce eye-wind flew over—no one dared move.

“Aunt Mei… what happened?” Helian Zheng gently patted Meido, eyes not daring to look at the purple-blue skin exposed from her tattered robes.

“You ask me? Why not ask yourself?” Meido abruptly raised her face, eyes full of bloodshot veins. “You carefully selected that old pervert for me! You arranged guards to escort the wedding, letting them gang-rape me on the road! That old man hated I wasn’t pure, beat me, cursed me, locked me in dark rooms, didn’t give me food or drink, even used sticks to ruin… ruin me! Zhadalan! Zhadalan! Why didn’t you kill me? Or twenty years ago, why did I save you?”

She abruptly opened a mouth full of white gleaming teeth, biting down hard on Helian Zheng’s arm.

She bit extremely hard. Blood almost immediately spurted. Helian Zheng didn’t move, waving away the rushing guards.

After a long moment, Meido’s body went limp, hanging on his arm—yet her teeth still hadn’t released.

Helian Zheng half-supported, half-held her, looking up at heaven. No one could see clearly the expression on his face. After a long while: “There’s a matron in the convoy. Call one over.”

Because Feng Zhiwei and Hua Qiong were female, each grain convoy found excuses to arrange one or two matrons for Feng Zhiwei’s convenience. The matron was almost dragged over by guards.

Helian Zheng had already carried Meido into a cart, sitting himself on the cart shaft while guards bandaged his arm wound. Seeing the matron approach, he said coldly: “Go in and examine Aunt Mei’s body. Come out and tell me. Remember—what you see, from now on rot it in your stomach.”

The matron trembled in fright, hastily agreed and crawled into the cart. After a long while she emerged, expression full of pity, whispering a few sentences in Helian Zheng’s ear.

Helian Zheng remained silent, waving for her to leave, sitting silently on the cart shaft watching heaven for a long while, then turning and entering the carriage.

Meido had already changed clothes, lying there. Her mad expression had already calmed. Seeing Helian Zheng, she actually smiled.

Then she opened both arms toward Helian Zheng, softly saying: “Azha… Azha… Just now I thought I was going to die… Suddenly seeing you, I went mad… Did I bite you hard? Let me see… let me see…”

Helian Zheng looked at her haggard appearance, eyes reddening, nearly shedding tears, extending his bandaged arm with forced smile: “It’s nothing, small wound.”

Meido stroked his white cloth-wrapped wound, tears falling patter-patter.

After a long moment she said softly: “Azha… it wasn’t you, wasn’t you, right? You’re the one I raised from childhood. You don’t have such a heart more venomous than jackals! “

Helian Zheng remained silent, saying with difficulty after a long moment: “Aunt Mei… perhaps this is just a misunderstanding…”

“Misunderstanding!” Meido immediately grew agitated, struggling to sit up and lift her robes. “What kind of misunderstanding creates this—”

“Don’t!” Helian Zheng hastily held her down. “Don’t! Aunt Meido, don’t get agitated… let’s talk slowly…”

Meido closed her eyes, chest heaving. After a long moment she said coldly: “Prince Shunyi, since you don’t believe my words, personally send someone to take me back to Dezhou Horse Ranch! Let your people see with their own eyes who’s lying!”

“Aunt Mei… don’t say such words. I don’t disbelieve you.” Helian Zheng said gently. “But I also know Zhiwei isn’t that kind of person. There must be some misunderstanding here. How about this—I still have some matters. First I’ll send someone to take you back to the royal court. We’ll talk more when you return, alright?”

“You’re throwing me back to the royal court alone?” Meido abruptly opened her eyes. “You’re throwing me to single-handedly face your jackal-fierce, vulture-cunning consort? You’re sending me into the fire pit again?”

Helian Zheng opened his mouth, unable to say Feng Zhiwei wasn’t at the royal court, only saying: “Then not back to the royal court. I’ll entrust you to Qingniao tribal chief to care for you…”

“Forget it, Great King!” Meido laughed coldly. “Your people are now all your Grand Consort’s running dogs! Watch—you send me back today, tomorrow I’ll be sent back to Dezhou!”

“Then what do you want?” Helian Zheng frowned.

“I’ll follow you!” Meido’s tone was resolute. “Wherever you go, I go. Azha… the way I am, who else dare I trust? If you won’t take me, I’ll immediately roll off this cart and die beneath your wheels!”

As she spoke she crawled up, struggling to push away bedding, rolling toward the cart below.

Helian Zheng blocked her but said resolutely: “Aunt Mei, no matter what matter, no matter whose fault, we must wait until I return to discuss. Now I can’t take you. My trip… is very important.”

He said no more, quickly lifted Meido, carrying her down from the cart, shouting: “Leave twenty men to escort Meido back to Qingniao tribe!” Finishing, he turned without looking back, spurring his horse to leave.

Having walked barely a few steps, he heard shocked cries from behind.

He turned back to see Meido had broken free of guards and was actually chasing the convoy running. She’d just left the cart without shoes—now barefoot running on sandy earth, her soles immediately wore through. On the ground, a trail of spotted bloodstains. Yet she seemed to feel nothing, not knowing where her strength came from. Suddenly leaping, she grabbed the edge of the final cart, hanging herself deadly on the cart’s side.

Helian Zheng’s expression changed dramatically, roaring: “Stop the cart! Stop the cart!”

Horses and carts immediately halted. Helian Zheng spurred his horse near. Meido, hanging desperately on the cart shaft, raised her head miserably, saying: “Azha… if you don’t want me… my corpse will follow you too…”

Helian Zheng froze in the sunlight.

“Azha, what are you afraid of? What can I do to you and your Grand Consort? Looking like this?” Meido smiled miserably. “I know you’re protecting her. I’m like this and you still protect her. But since you believe her no matter what, then take me along. Ask her. Ask your ice-pure jade-clean Grand Consort—have I wronged her?”

Helian Zheng remained silent, his resolute expression finally showing a trace of wavering.

Meido clung to the cart shaft, face upturned looking at Helian Zheng, tear-filled eyes gently saying: “Azha, my Azha… you’ve always been so resolute. Back then you were two years old… I held you in the hay pile. You didn’t cry once. You even told me—Sister Meido, we don’t need to be afraid, don’t need to be afraid… You were so small, but holding you I suddenly stopped trembling. You weren’t afraid—what did I have to fear? Your uncle’s spear stabbed into the hay, pierced through your palm. You didn’t even move. What did I have to fear? Just the ice lake… I wouldn’t die… Azha, look… even now like this, I didn’t die… My Azha… in this world, I have nothing left. Living… for you. Dead, still for you…”

“Stop talking!”