Li Chaoyang’s corpse sealed in ice was brought to Changgeng Pass by Limin in the dead of night.

At that time, Xin Mei was fast asleep, completely unaware of any subtle movements around her. War Ghosts had extremely sensitive perception, and when footsteps in the snow that didn’t belong to the soldiers in the pass sounded outside the tent, Lu Qianqiao, who hadn’t yet fallen asleep, opened his eyes.

Gently lifting the tent flap, cold wind mixed with fine snowflakes hit his face. Lu Qianqiao squinted slightly and immediately saw Limin standing not far away. He held a massive, entirely dark blue ice block in his arms, staring back expressionlessly.

“Young Master…” His voice was hoarse, even filled with despair. “Why did you abandon Madam and leave her unprotected?”

A sudden feeling of unease rose in Lu Qianqiao’s heart as he stared intently at the ice block in Limin’s arms—was there a person inside the ice block? He seemed to see a familiar square-bladed halberd and a section of snow-white clothing hem.

“…I still quietly followed. I heard your conversation with Madam. You had already agreed to return to the clan! Why did things turn out this way?!”

The massive ice block flew over heavily. Lu Qianqiao caught it, facing directly the person’s face within the ice.

Li Chaoyang… her time seemed frozen at the instant she was encased in ice. Her eyes were still wide with anger, her lips slightly parted as if about to cry out in pain.

He froze.

“Young Master, for you, which is more important—Young Madam or the survival of our clan?”

After extreme shock, Lu Qianqiao finally gradually came to his senses. He glanced at Limin, ignoring his challenging expression and words.

“…She’s not dead yet.” Lu Qianqiao held the ice block and walked toward another tent nearby. “A perfect War Ghost won’t die so easily. This ice is quite strange… we’ll talk after breaking the ice.”

What wrapped around Li Chaoyang’s body wasn’t so much ice as an extremely vicious and deadly curse. Even if placed under the blazing sun of midsummer, it wouldn’t melt a bit. If this curse hadn’t instantly sealed her five senses, then even the world’s hardest ice couldn’t have trapped Li Chaoyang for even a moment—she would have broken free long ago.

There were too many immortals in the world skilled in curses, but when it came to this kind of sinister viciousness, only the Fox clan was most adept.

What the existence of a perfect War Ghost meant to the War Ghost clan was self-evident. Having this figure, nearly divine and leader-like, reduced to this state was undoubtedly an extremely heavy blow.

The Fox clan—was this their purpose from the beginning?

The ice block was placed in the center of the tent. Lu Qianqiao removed his long whip and lightly tossed it. The whip seemed to have a life of its own as it coiled around the ice block. With several “crack” sounds, the massive ice block instantly split apart. Li Chaoyang fell limply, caught by Limin who gently placed her on the couch.

“…Why won’t Madam wake up?” He had been too shocked this night, practically jumping at everything. Her eyes were closed, her mouth was closed, her body was soft, but she wasn’t breathing, and her body was cold as ice.

“The ice is just an illusion—she’s been cursed.”

Lu Qianqiao lit a fire pile in the tent and calmly added charcoal to it.

Limin couldn’t stand his calmness and said sternly: “Young Master! No matter what, Madam is still your mother!”

He didn’t speak.

His feelings toward this woman… had always been limited, unlike ordinary worldly relationships. She hadn’t raised him, hadn’t cooked or washed clothes for him, hadn’t talked and laughed with him for comfort, and even… they had barely met a few times, with their conversations countable on one hand.

Now that he was approaching perfect War Ghost status, he felt even less emotion toward her.

He was somewhat bewildered—she really shouldn’t be like this… Li Chaoyang should have been like a mountain, undefeatable, indestructible, without any fragile emotions—she was the most perfect existence among War Ghosts.

Li Chaoyang had always been strong. He didn’t need to explain or account for anything to her because she was emotionless and wouldn’t understand. They had always interacted this way—disagreeing and immediately fighting, which seemed simpler. Neither wanted to break this convention, or both would feel awkward.

His original plan was to at least personally escort Xin Mei back to the Imperial Tomb before returning to the clan with Li Chaoyang.

But the opponent had found this momentary gap and successfully struck at her.

He remembered that day on Lishan Mountain, facing the white snow and blood-like sunset, her face showed subtle expression for the first time—not happiness or relief, but the deep emptiness that emerged from recalling past events. Couldn’t she even realize she was feeling regret?

If, if she hadn’t shown such an expression, he wouldn’t have agreed to return to the clan to deal with the Fox clan together.

That was the first time they had met without fighting, but if she didn’t wake up, it would be the last time.

Lu Qianqiao closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Send her back to the clan,” he ordered. “Leave immediately.”

Limin still couldn’t accept it: “Young Master, are you still planning to stay here fighting for that pig Emperor? Just for Young Madam?!”

The long whip silently struck his chest. Limin was sent flying, tearing through the tent entrance. He scrambled up in terror, blood still flowing from his mouth, but didn’t dare say another word.

“Limin, first, you have no right to question me like this.” Lu Qianqiao retracted his whip, looking down at him expressionlessly. “Second, if you refer to Xin Mei in a hostile tone again, I will kill you.”

Limin looked up at his eyes in horror. That black pupil was now slowly turning red, blood-red, filled with cold killing intent.

He instinctively bowed his body in submission.

“Send her back. I’ll arrive soon.”

When Lu Qianqiao returned to the main tent, Xin Mei was already awake, holding the blanket with wide eyes in a daze. Hearing his footsteps, she quickly turned and exclaimed: “Lu Qianqiao! You actually played disappearing in the middle of the night!”

He brushed off the snowflakes from his body and sat on the bedside with the cold air still clinging to him, touching her hair: “Can’t sleep well when I’m not beside you?”

Xin Mei rolled her eyes: “I woke up from hunger! My clothes were all torn by you, so I couldn’t get up to heat the food!”

He smiled: “I’ll heat it. You sleep.”

This New Year’s Day meal was truly full of disasters. When Lu Qianqiao took the food from the scalding food box, set out bowls and spoons to formally eat, dawn was almost breaking.

Xin Mei curled up in the blanket with closed eyes, weakly murmuring: “Is it ready yet?”

She was dizzy from hunger, feeling like her long-dead mother was beckoning to her from the darkness.

Lu Qianqiao placed the food on the cabinet by the bedside and scooped up a piece of chicken leg: “Open your mouth.”

Her clothes had been torn to shreds, from inside to outside. With no clothes to wear, she could only stay in bed and enjoy being personally attended to by the General.

One spoonful of cabbage, one spoonful of fish soup, one spoonful of chicken—Xin Mei asked him indistinctly while chewing: “Where’s the tofu?”

Lu Qianqiao looked awkwardly at the bowl of tofu that was so broken it had no recognizable shape. It had been shattered too dramatically—after the long journey, falling off the cliff, and being reheated repeatedly, it had finally crumbled to pieces in his hands.

“Uh, how did it get so broken…” Xin Mei was extremely regretful.

His expression was serious: “It’s fine, I’ll eat it all.”

She sat up wrapped in the blanket and fumbled in the bowl with chopsticks, finally managing to pick up what seemed to be a head-shaped piece of tofu with quick eyes and hands, smiling as she brought it to his mouth: “The head is still here, eat it!”

…Why did this scene keep repeating over and over? Lu Qianqiao numbly swallowed that head. Her tofu was always like this.

“Lu Qianqiao, do you still have to return to the War Ghost clan?”

During the relaxed and pleasant mealtime, she suddenly asked casually.

His feeding motion stopped. After a while, he answered in a low voice: “Mm… some things must be settled. It’s too dangerous, so I can’t bring you.”

“Then when will you leave?”

“…Tomorrow.”

“You mean at dawn? Leaving as soon as day breaks?”

“Mm.”

A warm, soft hand suddenly caressed his cheek. Lu Qianqiao looked at her slight smile: “What’s wrong? Already full?”

Xin Mei stared at him for a long time, then tightened her arms around his neck, the blanket sliding down from her chest. That… spring scene was revealed. Lu Qianqiao immediately felt his arm holding the food bowl stiffen.

“What’s wrong with you? You seem unhappy.” She leaned close and asked in a low voice.

She was sometimes unexpectedly perceptive.

He pulled up the blanket and wrapped her tightly. The spring scene was a small matter, but catching cold again would be a big problem.

“I just can’t bear to leave you,” he said.

Xin Mei opened her mouth in surprise, suddenly reaching out to feel his forehead, then poking her head out to look at the sky outside, murmuring: “No fever… and the sun isn’t rising from the west…”

“…”

He had rarely been so sincere, saying sweet words—why was this her reaction?

“While it’s still dark, you eat while I read you the letter everyone wrote.”

Xin Mei patted his shoulder and turned to rummage through the messy bed for a long time before finally finding that letter crumpled like preserved vegetables. Wrapped in the blanket, she began reading: “Si Lan says, General, I’m sorry! I actually doubted you! I truly deserve to die ten thousand deaths! No! Even dying ten thousand times cannot make up for the heinous crimes I committed against the General…”

There was a long string after that. Among so many demons, his words took up the most space, occupying nearly half the paper. Si Lan had increasingly inherited Manager Zhao’s style recently.

She continued: “Manager Zhao says, General, come back quickly. I can’t bear it alone at the Imperial Tomb.”

He spent his days eating and lazing around, writing about romance when he had nothing else to do—what exactly did he need to bear?

“Sister Yinglian says, I live inside the Imperial Tomb, you live outside the Imperial Tomb. I think of you daily but don’t see you, only shedding a thousand tears.”

This poetry didn’t rhyme at all…

Tao Guoguo and his little brother couldn’t write, so they only pressed handprints on the paper. The little brother’s plump handprint glowed faintly in the darkness. When touched with a finger, a line of consciousness-locked glowing words appeared on the print: [Big Brother Qianqiao! Remember to bring delicious food back!]

They only thought about eating.

…

The long letter was finally finished, and day had already broken. Xin Mei folded the letter and turned back. Lu Qianqiao’s expression was rarely gentle, as if lost in thought.

“Everyone is waiting for you to come home.” She cupped his face and tugged it twice, very seriously. “Lu Qianqiao, you must remember to come home often.”