Xiao Zhun still wore his court robes — a crimson gauze robe with wide sleeves and a narrow waist that made him look extraordinarily upright. Hearing Xiao Nanhui call out to him, he responded with a calm sound and then looked toward Xu Shu.

“Xu Shu has just been promoted to Commander of the Guard. He should have transferred into the palace to serve by now — for what reason does he still linger in my camp?”

What? She had only been gone for a short month, and this insufferable fellow had actually gotten another promotion?

Xu Shu had already arranged his expression into one of utmost respect, bowing with a salute: “Greetings, General. I only received the transfer order today, and came back to the camp to settle some affairs and gather my personal belongings. Unexpectedly, I happened to run into Nanhui just now — it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other that I wasn’t sure what to say, so I thought I’d break the ice with a little joke and close the distance between us. I didn’t expect to strike too hard.” He then looked sincerely at Xiao Nanhui. “Squad Leader Xiao, are you alright? I would feel terribly guilty if you were hurt.”

In his past life, Xu Shu had probably been an actor. Even after reincarnation, he still couldn’t shake the habit of switching expressions in an instant.

Xiao Nanhui pushed two words through gritted teeth: “Fine.”

Xiao Zhun glanced at the marks on the ground and understood everything. He said lightly: “If it was a misunderstanding, then there’s no need to delay any further. Since we’ve happened to run into each other at this moment, Commander Xu, why don’t you hand over your camp token right now — to avoid any future misunderstandings.”

The rule of the Four Great Camps: when a person leaves, their token stays behind.

But anyone could see that this manner of chasing someone off — practically snatching the token out of their hands — clearly carried a warning.

Xiao Nanhui couldn’t hide the gloating on her face. Thinking that she would never again have to cross paths with this man in camp, her mood lifted even further.

“Congratulations on your promotion, Brother Xu. I suppose we won’t be seeing much of each other from now on — take care of yourself.”

Xu Shu was not for nothing the seasoned veteran of many years of open rivalry and secret struggle with Xiao Nanhui. His expression only stiffened for a brief moment before he smoothly removed his camp token and offered it with both hands: “It was my own lack of consideration. Thank you for the reminder, General.”

He then stepped back and bowed: “The hour grows late; I shall take my leave. When we find leisure to meet again in the future, I hope Squad Leader Xiao will also have been promoted and grown wealthy — so that we might celebrate together.” With that, he turned and left, tossing a provocative glance back at Xiao Nanhui on his way out.

Xiao Nanhui glared back in response, only to hear Xiao Zhun’s voice.

“Xiao Nanhui. I called you here — not to watch you fight.”

Xiao Nanhui instantly deflated, nodding wearily: “Oh.”

Following Xiao Zhun back to the main tent, Xiao Nanhui walked with her head hanging the entire way. Xiao Zhun’s silhouette seemed to radiate an aura that intimidated her, capable of instantly reverting their relationship back to that of elder and junior.

She wanted to bring up the matter of King Kang’s assassination to ease the atmosphere, but then felt that this would only add to Xiao Zhun’s troubles. She kept stealing glances at his expression, turning over in her mind how much Xiao Zhun knew about what had happened in Huozhou. That wretched girl Bolao — she didn’t know if she had already been questioned. Judging by the way she always fawned with a “My Lord” this and “My Lord” that, there was a nine-in-ten chance she had reported every single thing they ate each day.

Lost in thought, Xiao Nanhui looked up to find that Xiao Zhun had already removed his military cap. His arched brows and sharp eyes carried an air of cool keenness. He spoke directly to the point: “I just came from the palace. The matter of the secret seal — I’ve already heard about it.”

Hmm? How did this get out so quickly? He heard? Heard from whom? That fellow Zhongli Jing?

No, no — as a guest scholar at the Chancellor’s manor, he shouldn’t have access to the palace.

Did he hear it from the Chancellor then? And who told the Chancellor? She had stood guard all night — not a single outsider had entered the Chancellor’s manor.

“The Emperor told me in private.”

Xiao Nanhui choked on her own saliva, and asked with a foolish expression: “What else did the Emperor say?”

Xiao Zhun looked at Xiao Nanhui, finding her expression somewhat amusing: “Why are you so curious about what the Emperor said? Don’t tell me you’re still waiting for him to reward you for your merits?”

Xiao Zhun’s words made Xiao Nanhui feel both aggrieved and, more than anything, deeply embarrassed.

Just yesterday, she had shared a carriage with that secret seal — yet due to a single moment of carelessness, they had parted ways forever. She had solemnly sworn to do something for Xiao Zhun, but in the end it had all come to nothing. With the seal now in the Emperor’s hands, she would never again have the chance to act covertly. Thinking of all this, Xiao Nanhui did not dare meet Xiao Zhun’s eyes. Was he disappointed in her? Did he find her laughable?

“Since the seal has been recovered, there is no need to dwell on the process. You abandoned your post without leave and traveled all the way to Huozhou — by military law, you must be punished. Do you accept the punishment?”

Xiao Nanhui had already mentally prepared herself. She knelt on one knee: “Xiao Nanhui accepts the punishment.”

“Good. Go and receive twenty strokes of the military rod shortly. After that, I’ll have someone escort you back. In the future, don’t go undertaking reckless ventures on your own — it’s thankless work.”

She was willing to take the beating, but even so, this matter still sat uneasily with her. She wanted to prove herself before Xiao Zhun: “The jianghu is treacherous, as is the battlefield. When Foster Father raised Nanhui, surely it was not to make me a coward who clings to life?”

Xiao Zhun rubbed his brow: “And what does this have to do with clinging to life?”

Xiao Nanhui struggled for a moment before speaking: “Foster Father, the Emperor doesn’t know the full truth — I don’t want you to think the same of me. I had made up my mind to pursue the jade seal.”

She wanted to describe how harrowing it had been atop Pingxiao Tower, how dangerous the Zhuming Ceremony had been, how unbearable it was in that icy swamp, how she had teetered on the brink of life and death upon that rope bridge — but in the end it all distilled into one sentence: “In any case, if I had not been tricked at the last moment by someone using underhanded methods, that jade seal would be in my hands right now.”

Xiao Zhun had not noticed the expression on Xiao Nanhui’s face. He simply helped her up from the ground: “Even if what you say is true, regardless of whether that person serves the Chancellor, the jade seal ultimately ended up with the Emperor. In the end, it only matters who claims the credit. If you had no selfish motive from the start, then there is no need to dwell on it.”

But she did have a selfish motive.

Her selfish motive was to help Xiao Zhun investigate the old affairs of years past. The case of the Xiao family’s massacre had been the first major case overseen by Xu Zhi when he took office as Chief Magistrate — and when the trail finally led to the Bai Family, the Bai Family had almost instantly fled in rebellion, leaving many of the facts impossible to confront. Because of this, countless truths were lost.

Among everything, the detail that most caught her attention was something that had happened one month before the massacre.

This detail had been recorded by the Censorate, which had provided documentary evidence for the case. Xiao Nanhui had gone to great lengths to obtain that document. It clearly stated: at the time, Prince Shuo Xiao Qing had received a letter from Heimu Commandery in northern Huozhou. While the content of the letter was unknown, it had drawn the attention of the Censorate — because the Xiao Family had never had any connection to Huozhou, let alone correspondence with anyone there.

Ever since the founding of the Tiancheng dynasty, anything involving Huozhou required extreme caution. This was partly due to the matter of the Shen Family, and also because Huozhou was the place where the jade seal of the previous dynasty had gone missing. At the time, the Deputy Censor-in-Chief Bai Heliu had on account of this begun secretly investigating the Xiao Family. One month later, the Xiao Family massacre occurred.

Although it was all mere conjecture, she had always harbored a vague feeling that the Xiao family’s massacre was a consequence of knowing some secret related to the jade seal. But what role, then, had the Bai Family played in all of this?

Xiao Zhun watched the shifting, storm-cloud expressions cross the face of the young woman before him, feeling a quiet helplessness.

She had a habit of letting her thoughts wander in the middle of conversations, and yet she was the sort of person who wore every emotion plainly on her face. That was precisely why he worried about her so often — moments like this one, if they fell under the gaze of a scheming person, no amount of martial skill would keep her from being used against her will.

If he didn’t interrupt, would this girl sit daydreaming before him until nightfall?

“Stop letting your mind wander. Tell me — who traveled with you on the road back from Huozhou?”

Xiao Nanhui snapped back to herself and answered honestly: “I met him while searching for the seal in Mu Er He. He said he was someone from the Chancellor’s manor.”

“The Chancellor’s manor?” Xiao Zhun’s brow furrowed slightly. “Since when does the Chancellor’s manor have authority to deploy the Imperial Guards?”

“What?” Xiao Nanhui was completely lost.

Xiao Zhun had already composed his expression: “It’s nothing. Just remember — when you’re out and about, don’t form close ties with people easily. The current political climate is not what it once was. Don’t let scheming people take advantage of you and suffer a hidden loss.”

A warmth spread through Xiao Nanhui’s chest. She nodded: “Foster Father, please rest easy. Nanhui will take care. I absolutely will not bring trouble to the household.”

Xiao Zhun finally smiled, reaching out to gently pat Xiao Nanhui on the head: “What trouble or no trouble — we are family. No matter what happens, I will find a way to protect you.”

Xiao Nanhui felt that broad warmth and weight upon her head, and could not stop her eyes from prickling with heat.

Though she had been born without family, she had never wallowed in self-pity because of it. Because she had Bolao, Dujuan, Chencai, and Yaoyi. She also had Xiao Zhun — though not bound by blood, they were closer than kin.

Once it had been they who protected her. Now she had grown. So it would be she who protected them.

Xiao Nanhui’s heart beat rapidly with that urgent longing. She had never been so grateful as she was in this moment that Xiao Zhun had taught her martial arts — it was this skill that gave her the power to repay his kindness.

“Foster Father, regarding the campaign in Lingxi this time—”

Before she could finish, Xiao Zhun cut her off: “You need not follow for this campaign. I will arrange for you to be stationed at the Guangyao Camp as a garrison.”

Xiao Nanhui was startled, then quickly asked: “Why? Does Foster Father blame Nanhui for acting on her own this time? I swear I will follow military orders and not put you in a difficult position.”

“This has nothing to do with what you did.”

“Then why won’t you let me join the campaign?”

Xiao Zhun looked at the young woman’s anxious and fearful expression before him, and ultimately said: “They call it suppressing the rebellion of the feudal kings, but in the end it will inevitably become entangled with the matter of Bijiang. The situation in Bijiang is complex — it cannot be resolved in one or two battles. I am already caught up in it. Why should you follow me into that?”

Because you are there. That is precisely why I want to go there.

Xiao Nanhui lowered her head: “I… staying in Quecheng, I’ll just be idle anyway…”

“Nonsense. If you truly enter the Imperial Guard, that alone will be enough to keep you anything but idle.”

Xiao Nanhui bit her lip, and the words she had been holding back could no longer be contained: “This morning I went to Yukun Street.”

Xiao Zhun’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly in an instant. He said nothing. The light filtering into the tent divided him into light and shadow — half his face sank entirely into darkness.

“I didn’t go inside. I only saw that the flowers inside the walls had all withered.” Xiao Nanhui drew a breath and paused before continuing: “I don’t mean anything by it — I only feel that whatever happened in the past, Foster Father can tell me about it.”

There was a yearning in Xiao Nanhui’s tone.

She always hoped to draw closer to him. Even if he stood at the edge of an abyss, she was willing to keep him company there.

Xiao Zhun looked at the young, sincere face before him, and for one brief moment, felt himself waver. Yet that instant of vulnerability was ultimately not enough to dissolve the thick cocoon that had long encased his heart. For a person, happy memories leave far less of an impression than painful ones. The most terrible thing is not the pain itself — it is that pain does not fade with time, but instead fragments into your blood, capable of triggering the instinct to flee in every similar moment that follows.

“You should not be drawn into this. It is not fair to you.”

Xiao Zhun’s voice carried a familiar weariness. Xiao Nanhui could almost see an invisible wall slowly rising around him, growing taller and taller, until it had surrounded and swallowed him completely.

Xiao Zhun had pushed her away again.

She had lost count of how many times this had happened. There was always a line between her and Xiao Zhun that could not be crossed. In ordinary times they seemed like the closest of people, but the moment conversation turned to the past — to anything before she had joined the Xiao household — that invisible line would surface, cut deep into the space between them, impossible to erase or rub away.

From the very first day they met, fourteen years ago, the distance between them had been fixed at that point.

Was there truly a difference between a thousand miles away and right at hand?

In this moment, Xiao Nanhui felt there was none.

No matter how near or far, she had never truly reached the place inside Xiao Zhun’s heart.